


Watching Her

by les16



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 104,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/les16/pseuds/les16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's his Drummer Girl. She plays. She dances. She's got secrets. He watches her. If he comes out of the woods will she let him in or close the doors forever? Daily Updates. AH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Belle

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot is all mine.**

**Hello, old friends. This journey is going to be very different from all of my other ones. I hope it doesn't disappoint.**

**New friends, I'm so happy to see you.**

**Here we go ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


**Chapter 1 - Belle -** _**Beauty and the Beast** _

**Belle is kind, brave, intelligent, independent, stubborn, outspoken, bold, beautiful, and imaginative.**

Jesus, I don't know how the hell it can still be so cold and be summer, but I'm freezing my ass off … and have been for over a week now.

For the past ten nights I've come to this exact spot to wait and watch … and watch and wait. It's totally and completely nuts; if I could figure out what the hell I'm doing, I'd seriously try to stop. I'm not a stalker or anything but I just can't stay away. I tell myself all day long that I won't come, and every night, I crawl out of bed and leave the warmth of my blankets to come here.

For her.

A twig snaps behind me from somewhere hidden in the woods. I pull up the hood of my sweatshirt. I shove my hands deeper in the pocket of my Forks High Soccer hoodie and lean against the tree beside me, never taking my eyes off the door I know she'll walk through.

Night after night it's been the same thing. At precisely the ungodly hour of two A.M. she walks out of her house and makes her way to what I have come to call her sanctuary. Hell, to most everyone else it's like a huge game room or maybe even a workshop of some sort, but I can tell by the way she rushes out of the main house and the way her entire body relaxes the moment she steps foot inside the cavernous building, for her, the space means she's free.

Free from what I have no idea, but I'm damn sure going to find out.

From the first moment I saw her as she drove through town, catching just the barest glimpse of her long brown hair and her pale skin, she's occupied my every waking thought, and when I finally get my ass back in bed, my dreams as well.

I have no idea what her name is.

I have no idea what the hell she's doing in the tiny town of Forks.

I have no idea what makes me come and watch her every night from the trees that skirt her property, but here I am and here I'm going to stay until I can figure out what my next move is going to be.

Because as sure as I'm standing here in the fucking cold in the middle of the night, I will do something.

I have to.

If Emmett or Jasper ever catches wind of this, I'll never hear the end of it, but somehow no matter how cringe-worthy that thought is, I know I won't stop coming here.

I can't.

Thank God my parents are out of town for the next month or so now that summer vacation has started and thank God Dad convinced my mom that I'm old enough to stay home this year. I shiver, and not from the cold either, when I think about how thankful I am that I don't have to endure weeks of my 'Cousin' Tanya's nasty ass. She's not really my cousin, a fact for which I'm extremely grateful.

She's a pretty girl, I suppose,if you go for fake blonde hair and an even more fake personality.

I don't.

Whenever my parents force me to go to Alaska to visit their good friends Eleazar and Carmen and their daughter, Tanya, I pray every time I will make it back to Forks with my dick still attached. Sometimes I'm pretty fucking amazed I manage to make it out alive to be quite honest. Tanya's pretty damn relentless when she wants to be. Of course Jackasses One and Two, or Emmett and Jasper respectively, ride my ass like nobody's business for not tapping that when I'm given free shot after free shot, but it's just not my thing.

Thinking about the brown-haired beauty that will be making an appearance any second makes me extremely happy about that.

I'm not totally inexperienced mind you. I mean come the fuck on, I'm an almost eighteen-year-old male so I've fooled around some, but I'm not a man-whore like that fucker Newton. I have more respect for myself than that and after it being drilled in my head since I hit puberty, more respect for the few girls I've dated, too. I've had a few girlfriends in the past, but none I was ever serious enough about to even think of taking things to the next step and have sex with them.

It's not always easy, listening to the guys in the locker room go on and on about this chick or that chick and all the things they've done, but I know none of that's for me. Doesn't mean I don't want it, because Lord knows I really do, but up until now, not one girl I've ever met ever did much for me.

Not until her that is.

Drummer Girl.

I don't know her name yet, so that's what I've started calling her in my head.

Pretty apt description I think, since she plays the drums. And when I say plays, the girl fucking rocks. The first night I crept through the dark and saw her, I about came in my pants watching her she was so fucking hot. Sweaty, hair flying everywhere, arms flexing with each up and down movement; I swear it was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I play the guitar and piano so I know about getting lost in the music, but her … she wasn't just lost, she was totally immersed. She played with such wild abandon, it was as if she was running, trying to escape some unseen or maybe even unknown force and wouldn't stop playing until she was safe.

Free.

If I had any thoughts of talking myself out of watching her, after seeing her that first night, after watching the way her chest heaved and her body swayed and moved, after watching the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen grace her face when she was done … any thought of being able to stay away flew right the fuck out the window.

I want to know what makes her play like the devil himself is chasing her.

I want to know what the hell she's doing awake every damn day at two in the morning.

I want to know why she looks so sad when she walks out of her house.

I want to know her.

I want her.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**This story will update daily. There will be pic teases posted daily as well on my blog:**

**les-16 . blogspot . com**

**You don't want to miss those, I promise. There's a group on Facebook where lots of good things are posted, come join us:**

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**Find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**To my pre-readers - J'me, Becky, Kassiah, Aleea, Cecile, Robin, and my two Jens - thank you from the bottom of my heart. You've all been incredible. I couldn't do this without you.**

**To my amazing everything and beta Laurel: I have no words; you are simply the best.**

**Jaime Arkin - my banner is gorgeous. I'm going to make it into a poster, I swear I am.**

**Let me know what you think. I'm super duper nervous.**

**See you tomorrow, thank you for reading!**

**Erin~  
**


	2. Donald Duck

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot is all mine.**

**WOW! Totally blown away by the response to the first chapter. Thank you! I'm thrilled to have all of you along for the ride.**

**Let's get to it, shall we?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 2 - Donald Duck**

**Donald is a short-tempered, impatient, angry, but sometimes nice, innocent and honest.**

_When I walk in the spot, (yea) this is what I see (okay)_

_Everybody stops and they staring at me_

_I got a passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it, show it, show it, show it …_

_I'm sexy and I know it_

"God damn it, Emmett." I growl into the phone, eyes still closed.

The pain in the ass doesn't even have the decency to apologize for waking me up, or for putting that ridiculous song as his ring tone … again. It doesn't matter how many times I threaten him or change it, the slick asshole always changes it back. I crack my eye open, and groan even louder. _Jesus Christ_. "You fucker, it's not even nine o'clock yet. What the hell do you want?"

"Stop bitching and get your bony ass out of bed. Jas and I are coming to pick you up. We're going to the field to practice. We'll be there in thirty." Before I can even respond, he's gone.

I toss the phone on the bed beside me and groan. I'm so not in the mood to practice, but I know there's no way in hell Jasper and Emmett will take no for an answer. I stumble my way to the shower, bleary-eyed and feeling like shit. _No more_ , I tell myself as I strip, kicking my boxers into the corner of the bathroom.

Blindly, I turn the shower on, taking a piss while the water heats up. As soon as I stand beneath the spray I sigh. Every muscle aches, from fatigue and from the strain of standing still for so long in the cold. "No more, Edward," I say out loud, slapping the tile wall with the palm of my hand.

Of course I know I won't listen.

I can't.

Tipping my head back, I let the steaming water run through my hair. I close my eyes and it doesn't surprise me in the least that the only thing I see is brown hair, bare legs, and creamy skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I mutter, now sporting wood hard enough to drill a hole into the wall.

I squirt some shower gel into the palm of my hand knowing if I don't take care of this now, it's going to make it impossible to practice. I jerk and tug, grunt and groan, and come in only a matter of minutes. Not surprising, really, but I have to admit I feel better, or at least less tense. I scoot out of the way so that the spray can wash the mess down the drain because that shit's just gross, and speed through the rest of my shower.

Just about the time I pull a t-shirt over my head, I hear the front door open, followed by the unmistakable clomp of Emmett's feet as he goes straight to the kitchen.

"Yo, Ed," he hollers like I can't hear every word he says. The dude's loud even when he's talking in his 'inside voice.'

I grab my bag off the floor and sling my tied-together cleats over my shoulder. "Didn't your mothers teach you any manners?" I grumble stomping past them and heading straight for the refrigerator.

Flinging the door open, I grab the orange juice from the shelf. I drink straight from the carton, ignoring the first bitter taste because I just brushed my teeth. "And knock, damn it!" I huff at them both. "Just because my parents aren't home doesn't mean I want you two assholes barging in any time you want to." I grab a handful of granola bars out of the pantry and drop all but one into my bag.

"Whatever, Edward. It's not like we'd be interrupting anything since I can't even remember the last time I saw you with a girl." Jasper guffaws and holds his hand out for a fist pound from Emmett.

I have no idea why these two idiots are my best friends.

"Let's go. I need to work on my corner kicks." I glare at them, totally ignoring the amused looks on both their faces. I make sure I have a few bottles of water and a few Powerades and we head out to the field.

We've been practicing for hours. I'm sweating like a pig, my gray t-shirt long gone, when I hear Jasper whistle. "Nice ride," he drawls as his eyes are fixed on the road behind me.

I turn … and feel all the air leave my lungs. Adrenaline pumps through my veins so fast I get dizzy, and not from the sun beating down on me either. "It's her," I murmur too quietly for either of them to hear me. Thank God.

Her gleaming black Escalade heads in the direction of town and it's about all I can do not to make some excuse to the guys so we can leave and then I can follow her.

"Who the hell is that?" Emmett wonders aloud, juggling the soccer ball as he talks.

For some reason I play it off, wanting … needing to keep her to myself for a little longer.

"Probably just some guy traveling through town on their way to La Push." My tone is casual, indifferent. I'm anything but.

Last night was much the same as all the ones before. Two A.M. on the dot, and she was out the door like her ass was on fire. Short shorts, a tight t-shirt with Donald Duck emblazoned on the front and her hair up in a high ponytail, my favorite. It's about fifty/fifty whether it's up or down, but my preference is for up … always up. Watching her from where I do is hard enough; I don't need her hair hiding her face on top of it. Not to mention, when her hair is up, I can imagine what the skin of her neck tastes like on my tongue and what her hair feels like wrapped around my fingers.

There was something different though; she didn't play the drums. Instead, she danced. The moment I heard the heavy beat of the music, I felt it in my bones. When I saw her start to move and twist and thrust, I felt my dick try to push its way out of my jeans. It was so fucking hot. But at the same time, it made me want to hug her tightly and hold her close because I could tell, even from as far away as I was, she wasn't dancing to feel happy, she was dancing to express her pain. Even without the music, some grinding, pulsating, discordant-sounding mess, it was plain to see she was hurting.

It made me want to rage. Seeing her that way just seemed … wrong. I immediately wanted to take her pain away.

She danced for hours until her body was dripping with sweat. Her t-shirt clung to her body; it took her a good three or four minutes to catch her breath and even then, it didn't seem like she could get enough air in her lungs. There was no smile of accomplishment, the kind like I get after a good, hard practice when my body buzzes with adrenaline and the best kind of fatigue in my muscles. Instead, she looked more defeated, more anguished, than she had when she started.

I can only hope tonight, because I have to see her, she's back to playing the drums.

I wait until I can't see the back of her truck anymore then turn back to the guys. "Come on, let's finish up so we can go to the diner and grab some lunch."

In the back of mind, I'm already counting down the minutes until I can see her again.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, she dances, too. Wonder what else Drummer Girl can do?**

**Don't forget about the pic teases on my blog:**

**les-16 . blogspot . com**

**You don't want to miss those, I promise. There's a group on Facebook where lots of good things are posted, come join us:**

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**Find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**My pre-readers - J'me, Becky, Kassiah, Aleea, Cecile, Robin, Kat, and my two Jens - make sure I stay on track. My beta and blog guru Laurel makes sure my words look pretty and my blog stays up to date. Jaime Arkin made me a banner I can't stop looking at. Thank you one and all, you're all simply wonderful and I love you.**

**We've only just begun, hope you're going to stick around to see where it all goes.**

**See you tomorrow, thank you for reading!**

**Erin~**


	3. Ariel

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot belongs to me.**

**More blown away today than yesterday! Thank y'all so so much for all the support and enthusiasm! You all are the best!**

**Onward we go …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


**Chapter 3 - Ariel -** _**The Little Mermaid** _

**Ariel is a bright, spirited mermaid who is also adventurous and stubborn. Her curiosity and love for adventure sometimes gets her into trouble. Usually, however, Ariel overcomes any obstacle she faces.**

"Oh, fuck me," I mutter, stomping my feet to try to get the blood circulating again. I look up, which is a big mistake considering a raindrop falls right into my eye. It's been sprinkling for the last thirty minutes, but now it's a steady, though light, rainfall. Taking my hands out of my hoodie, I pull my beanie down more over my ears and huddle closer to the tree trunk … as if that will help. A few drops of rain slide beneath the collar of my t-shirt and I shiver as they roll down my back.

"Edward, you're a fucking idiot," I chastise myself for at least the hundredth time.

I've got her timing down so well by now that I know I've got only about three or four minutes until she comes out the door. You'd think with as many times as I've trekked between our houses I'd know it by heart, which I guess I do, but it still takes a good twenty minutes or so to get here. It's normally not too bad of a walk, but in the rain it pretty much sucks ass. As soon as I closed my front door and walked down the steps, I stopped when I felt the first drops of rain fall from the water-logged sky, but I knew after seeing her in town today, I'd never be able to wait until tomorrow.

Having her that close, though it was only in passing, made me want to get closer.

I'm so fucked. I still don't even know her name, but it doesn't matter.

I do need a plan though.

I hear the click of the door and my body awakens, anticipation racing through my veins because she's coming. She stands on the top step, facing out into the night, and pulls the door behind her. Her eyes sweep from left to right and I swear, even though I'm positive she can't see me, when her eyes reach me, every cell in my body jumps to attention, shooting sparks of flaming hot want everywhere. I suck in a sharp breath, my skin tingling and my dick hard as a fucking rock as I watch her. She stands on the step, breathing in and out, once then twice, the golden-white glow of the porch light casting shadows across her face. She's in the same kind of shorts as she was last night, though tonight they're a bright turquoise instead of black and the t-shirt is Ariel. I have to smile at that, she's obviously in a much better mood than last night.

Maybe I should call her Rain Girl instead of Drummer Girl because she doesn't seem to mind the rain that's still falling. She moves from beneath the awning covering the steps and lets out the most adorable squeak when the first pellets of rain hit her skin.

She dodges a puddle or two and when she reaches the three bay doors, the light that spills from the two open ones glitters off the drops of rain that cling to her skin. She shakes her head as soon as she takes a step and strands of damp hair stick to the side of her face, her shoulder, while some curl down toward the slope of her chest.

God damn, but she's so hot! All firm ass and perky tits and legs that would look fucking incredible wrapped around my waist.

"Get a grip on yourself, you damned pervert," I scold myself, shifting and adjusting while I take a deep breath to try to calm down some. It's not that I don't want her that way because Christ almighty I've never wanted anyone more, but every part of me knows that there's so much more to this girl than a gorgeous face and a body that makes my dick weep with joy.

Tonight instead of going straight for the drum set, she walks around, looking this way and that. God, what I wouldn't give to know what she's thinking, especially when I see a sweet smile grace her face when she looks in the direction of what appears to be a bookshelf filled with books. There's a comfortable-looking loveseat with colorful pillows placed in the corners. A throw rug of some sort of furry material that looks soft enough to curl your toes in covers the floor directly in front of the loveseat.

Jesus, if I were Drummer Girl I don't know that I'd ever go inside.

I realize she goes there to get away from what's inside her house. Then again, there are times I've seen her stare longingly at the house, the window in the bottom left of the first story to be more exact, so I know that whatever makes her come outside isn't all bad all the time.

The not knowing is really starting to kill me though, slowly but surely. All these scenarios play in my head, everything from witness protection to her being some sort of sex slave to a Hugh Hefner wannabe. Both far-fetched I'm sure, but the possibilities are pretty much endless. I mean who the hell moves to Forks for God's sake? The last time someone moved here it was like Disney World opened up right in the middle of downtown. People came out of the woodwork and the gossip had started the second Armand St. Croix moved to town and opened the new beauty salon when I was in seventh grade. It took months before the rumor mill even thought about dying down.

The clang of the cymbals jerks my attention from wondering what her story is to simply watching her. She taps out some rhythm on the silver discs with her fingers, smiling to herself like she's just had an epiphany of some sort. She scurries toward the stool behind the drum set, picking up the sticks that are laid across the snare before sitting down. I love watching her when she first sits down. Her entire body relaxes. It's as if the weight she always carries vanishes when she's outside, like a wisp of smoke floating in the air.

My breathing picks up and I fight the urge to move forward, just to get closer to her as she begins to play. There's a fluttery feeling in my stomach as the beat of the drums fills the air. Tonight there's not any background music for her to play along with; it's just her and whatever melody she hears in her head. I'm a strong enough musician to be able to appreciate her skill … getting notes out of your head to your instrument isn't easy. While there's no doubt that she's hot as hell as she flexes and sways, the fact that she not only plays but she composes, too, has just ratcheted her hotness factor off the fucking Richter scale.

The beats are heavy, but there's a feeling of something close to hope and joy buried beneath the cadence. Whatever she's playing, a song, or just strings of beats together, sounds fucking amazing until it abruptly stops.

I squint and feel a strange but powerful surge of disappointment. She holds up a splintered drumstick, scowling at it like it's just committed some heinous crime, though foolishly, I tend to agree. She huffs, clearly agitated which in turn makes me feel like hopping in my car and driving to the closest music store and camping my ass out there to wait until it opens so I can buy her a new set.

I want … I _need_ to hear how the song ends. There was so much promise in what she's just played that to never hear the end of it would be almost criminal. A plan forms, bringing with it a smile and a shiver that wracks my entire body. If I have anything to say about it, by tomorrow night she'll have new drumsticks.

I want that song.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Who thinks they know what Edward's plan is? I think you'll like what it is!**

**Tomorrow's pic tease? I LOVE it! I hope you will, too! Check it out on the blog:**

**les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**The theories have started. I love hearing them!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**More tomorrow, see you then!**

**Erin~**


	4. Prince Edward

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot's all mine.**

**Thanks everyone for all the amazing reviews and all the alerts and faves! I won't be doing review replies because of the updating schedule, but please know I read and appreciate every single one!**

**Now, how about our man with the plan?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 4 - Prince Edward -** _**Enchanted** _

**Prince Edward is handsome, funny, heroic, if not a bit clumsy, yet he is still tough. He is looking for that happily ever after.**

"Hey, man, where the hell are you?" Jasper demands before I even say hello.

I huff, because it's only like the fifth time he or Emmett has called since I woke up. I know they're wondering where the hell I am or at the very least why they can't get into my house. I took the key from its hiding place outside under the planter. I'm not about to spend my summer with those two fools barging in whenever they feel like it. As usual, we're supposed to be practicing, but instead, I'm on my way to Port Angeles.

To buy drumsticks.

For her.

"I have an errand to run. I'll catch you guys this afternoon after lunch. Maybe we can go run or something," I try to deflect.

Of course he can't just let that go without a comment so he presses, asking, "An errand where? We'll just wait for you or you can meet us at the field when you're done."

"I'm going to Port Angeles, so I'll just meet you guys later. I'll call you when I'm done." My tone is brusque, but I can't help it. I know Jasper; he doesn't let shit go and he always knows when I'm hiding something.

Smooth, perceptive motherfucker.

There's silence on the other end, but it's the kind that creeps up your spine and makes the hair on your arms stand on end. Silence from Jasper is never a good thing. I can practically see him, his eyes narrowed as he goes over the past two weeks … my evasiveness, my lack of focus, the dark circles under my eyes.

I hear his breath through the phone. My skin prickles and my heart races in my chest as I hear him say, "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," I answer because at this point I have no idea.

My life's a jumble of sleepless nights, murky skies, and a girl that has somehow managed to seep into every part of me so much that I can't think or see or do anything.

"Be careful," is all he answers before he's gone.

I throw the phone onto the seat beside me and shift gears as my car slows through a sharp turn. My mind wanders, as always, to her. I hope the music store in Port Angeles has what I need. I fight the overwhelming compulsion to keep going toward Seattle just to make sure I find what I'm looking for. I even calculate in my head how long it will take me to get there, where to stop for gas, and what time I'd get home if I just keep heading east. Like driving an hour to Port Angeles doesn't make me seem stalkerish enough … driving three hours each way borders on insane. I tell myself that if I speed I can probably cut the round-trip by at least an hour … then I shake my head.

As much as I know that nothing about what I'm doing makes any fucking sense, there's something that tells me not to stop, to keep going, and see what happens.

Maybe I'm just trying to convince my damn self that buying some stranger drumsticks, a beautiful one though she is, is just me doing something nice.

Yeah, right, and I have a bridge to sell you in Brooklyn.

Knowing that I'm going to do it anyway, right or wrong, I flip to my favorite alternative station on the satellite radio and lose myself in the music for the rest of the trip. I find the store with ease; it's one I've been in enough times for myself. I spend a little time looking around, enjoying the fact that besides me and the old guy that owns the place, it's empty. For a small town music store, it's relatively well-stocked. I pick up a package of blank music sheets and a few picks for my guitar before moving toward the small selection of drumsticks. I don't want to give her something generic, but I don't know a whole lot about drums or what kind of sticks are the best. I don't even know if there's a brand or a kind she likes to play with.

I sigh, fighting the urge to flee the store and my stupid idea. _What the fuck am I doing?_ _She's just a girl. It was just a song_ , I chant, puffing my cheeks and holding my breath before letting it go in a long exhale. But she's not and it wasn't. I rock on my heels and run my free hand through my hair, pulling on it as I have a tendency to do when I'm nervous.

"Having trouble deciding?" The old guy's voice startles me and I jump. The tips of my ears heat up - a reaction I curse my mother for and hate frequently.

I shrug, shifting a bit from side to side. My fingers curl around the package in my hand and I know I'm wrinkling the sheets. _Damn it._ "I need to buy a … ah … um … a friend," I stammer, tripping over the word, "a new set of drumsticks but I don't know what kind to get."

He nods, a little knowingly I think, and then grabs a set off the wall. "These are the best we carry. If you want something a little more special, we can order a set for you." The thought's tempting, but I need drumsticks now. _Maybe later_ … though I'm a fucking idiot for thinking about anything past tonight. Giving her these is probably going to ruin any chance I have with her, but I know I'm going to give them to her anyway.

I hand the guy my debit card once we're at the front counter, thanking my lucky stars that my parents don't check my bank account. I work for Dad at the hospital, doing odd things here and there and they give me an allowance for taking care of the yard and shit like that, so my money's mine to spend as I want. It's not as if they were to see a charge from a music store they'd be surprised, but the less questions I have to answer the better.

I hit up McDonald's, craving some Chicken McNuggets and a Coke. I'm certainly not going to waste a trip to Port Angeles without stopping for some fast food at Mickey D's. There are only so many burgers and fries a guy can eat at the diner, no matter how good they are. After topping off my gas, I head toward home.

I know the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that starts as I get closer to Forks isn't coming from the processed chicken I've just shoveled in my face. When I pass the general vicinity where I know her house is, set back from the road and hidden behind the tall trees, my heart thumps behind my rib cage and my fingers wrap around the steering wheel. _A few hours, and then I can see her again_. It's more than a few, closer to a dozen, but still, just knowing that I will see her somewhat loosens the knot that's pretty much taken up residence in the center of my chest.

Once I'm home, I throw some clothes in the wash, jump in the shower, and then take a nap. It's going to be a long night for me and I want to be ready.

Tonight can change everything.

For better or worse.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Poor Edward, so nervous about what's to come. Bet y'all can't wait to see!**

**Tomorrow's pic tease is another good one ... Check it out on the blog:**

**les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**The theories have started. Some are rather interesting to say the least!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**More tomorrow, see you then!**

**Erin~**


	5. Aladdin

**SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**So glad to see so many come back to see what's going to happen next! Your reviews keep a smile on my face all day long, thank you!**

***A special shout out to a very special friend ... My Sweet Pea Becky (rtgirl) is having a birthday today! Check out the little love story, K-I-S-S-I-N-G my partner in crime prettykittyartist and I wrote for Becky's special day. Link is in my profile. Happy Birthday sweet girl, I love you more than Chick Fil A ... and we both know that's a whole, whole bunch!  
**

**Now let's see what happens next ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 5 - Aladdin -** _**Aladdin** _

**You dream of a life with a beautiful princess, and have the courage to risk it all for that one special magic carpet ride.**

"Shit, shit, shit," I mutter as I traipse through the woods feeling very much like a thief in the night as my feet skitter through the pine straw that litters the ground. Dressed in black from head to foot, I tell myself for the seven hundred ninety-eighth time since I ate dinner that what I'm getting ready to do doesn't make me a creeper, or a pervert … or a hyper-sexed almost eighteen-year-old.

There's a damp chill in the air, the remnants from last night's rain, and the ground beneath my shoes is slick and spongy. The moon is hidden behind thick clouds that almost blend in with the sooty sky. There's not a star to be found, none bright or strong enough to penetrate the pea soup overhead.

My feet know the way even without the glow of the moon to guide me. If I were an even bigger idiot than I am for doing what I'm about to do, I might be tempted to try to do the whole walk with my eyes closed. It'd be just my luck, though, that some wayward branch would thwack me in the face or I'd trip over a stump and jack my knee all up before ODP camp … Coach would definitely not like that at all.

I look through a break in the trees and I can see her house off in the distance. My steps slow, my breathing does not … neither does my heart. _Fuck_. I grip the drumsticks in my hand so tightly that I'm afraid I might snap them in half. A few more steps and it's do or die time. I stop, scared out my damned mind, knowing that I'm about to cross some kind of line, though if I'm being honest with myself, I crossed it more than a week ago when I watched her the first time … and I definitely crossed it when I came back the second night.

As usual, two of the three bay doors are open, the light from inside spilling out onto the driveway. Her Escalade's parked in the driveway in its normal spot and a small gray car is beside it. The Escalade is always the same; the other cars change periodically. There's a pattern to the comings and goings of the vehicles but I'll be damned if I can figure it out. Most nights when I crawl into my bed, exhausted, confused, and cold, I conjure up the most ridiculous explanations for what's going on. It's like the beginning of a mystery or a political thriller movie, there are pieces, seemingly unrelated pieces of a puzzle, scattered about and it's just going to take some time until they come together and make sense.

I rock back and forth on my heels, and stare at her house. Like my own, it's huge, two stories with windows on all sides like polka dots. I can't see the front because I come from the west and her house faces south. I know, because I've lived in Forks most of my damned life, that there are two huge columns in the front and a wide porch that runs the entire length of the house. When we were younger, we never missed a chance to Trick-or-Treat here. Old Mr. and Mrs. Abbott always gave out the best candy … the high-dollar, full-sized Reese's and Snickers and Kit Kats … none of that generic shit and plastic-tasting bubble gum.

Drummer Girl's metal building is new and I wonder, not for the first time, how I missed noticing it. You can't really see it from the road that winds by her house because of the trees and from how far back from the road it sits, but you'd think I would have heard it being built or something, but I didn't. Like everything else about her, it's a mystery.

I raise my arm and glance at my watch. I don't have long to make my move if I want to get in and out before she shows up. My heart jackhammers in my chest, so hard I rub a hand over it as if there's a bruise there already. I can feel my pulse pound in my head and my breathing sounds loud, so fucking loud, in my ears. I take a step forward, my knees knocking. The muscles in my legs that are normally coiled and ready to flex and move, are suddenly mush beneath skin that's now covered in goosebumps.

_Get it together, you pussy_ , I think and take another step, positive that some unseen spotlight is suddenly going to light up the night sky and track me like an inmate making a run for it. When nothing happens, I straighten my shoulders and then break into a sprint that would make David Beckham jealous. I flatten myself against the side of her Escalade, panting and gasping for breath, and then hope that like the rest of Forks, she doesn't bother with setting her car alarm.

When the only sound I hear is my own choppy puffs of breath and the leftover rain as it drips off the corner of the building, I close my eyes and say a quick prayer of thanks. My whole body is one huge jumble of electricity, but before I can talk myself out of it, I take five short steps until I'm standing inside the building. Immediately, it's as if her entire essence surrounds me. Frayed nerves calm, goosebumps fade, and my tense muscles relax. The air is filled with the lingering scent of rain and wet pine, but there's also a hint of peppermint and sugar cookies layered beneath. I take a deep breath, then another. I hope when I get home that somehow the smell has saturated my clothes. It smells like nothing I've ever experienced and it makes my stomach do the strangest things.

Something I can't even think about … well, not right now and get the hell out of here before someone sees me. Before _she_ sees me. Dressed as I am, there's no way that would be anything but a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

That thought spurs me into action and as much as I'm dying to look, to really look around, I don't have time. I walk toward her drum set, ignoring the flare of lust and want that blazes hot and bright. I'm almost eighteen-years-old. I've seen porn, lots of porn, and I've seen my share of hot girls dressed in short cheerleader skirts and in barely-there bikinis on the beaches of La Push, but not one of them comes close to the hotness of Drummer Girl.

Wild hair. Long legs that are sinuous and perfectly proportioned to her fuck-hot body. Arms that are thin, but not so skinny I'd be afraid to snap her like a toothpick if I held onto them. A smile that makes me want to do whatever's necessary to ensure there's never a moment she doesn't smile.

I touch the stool, feeling a little perverted since that's where her ass is for hours at a time, but it's also where she sits to escape from whatever it is that haunts her. I set the drumsticks down, more scared than I've ever been in my life, but more determined, too. There's something there … here … that's right and good. I can feel it. Deep in my bones, in my soul. Expectant, destined, I don't even know.

I turn to walk out, leaving the sticks lying across the stool. I stop, sighing. I can't just leave them there, like they appeared out of nowhere. As much of a peeping Tom/stalker I feel like when it comes to this girl, I know leaving the drumsticks with no note or anything is liable to freak her the fuck out. Besides, I want her to know they're from me. I'm not sure I want her to realize I've been watching her, but I can't very well do one without the other. I turn back around, my eyes scanning for something, anything to write on.

"You thought this out real good didn't you, slick?" I mutter. I need to hurry though because I've spent way too much time in here. I want to be safely hidden in the trees when she makes her appearance.

I find an old notebook on a shelf behind the drums, the edges rolled and the wire at the end kinked and uneven which makes folding it open to tear a sheet of paper a challenge. Thankfully there's also a pen. I tap the pen nervously against my lips as I think about what to write.

_Hi, you don't know me but I thought you could use a new set of drumsticks …_

_You might not believe this, but the drum fairy told me you broke one of your drumsticks last night …_

_I promise I'm not a stalker, but I've been watching you …_

"Fuck me." I groan out loud, ignoring the minutes ticking loudly by in my mind.

Sucking in a lungful of the mouthwatering air I scrawl a quick note, cringing a bit because I know no matter how I try to word it, I'm going to come across as horribly as I think I will.

_Drummer Girl,_

_These are for you._

_The song you were playing last night was s_ _o_ _incredible_ _; I just w_ _ant you to be able to finish it._

_Please don't be afraid of me. I won't hurt you, I promise._

Fuck, how the hell do I sign this so I don't sound like an escapee from an insane asylum? I can't tell her my name, not yet. I sure as hell can't sign it something as lame as "Your Secret Admirer" and I damn sure know I can't sign it "Love" or with Xs and Os.

Without wasting any more time, I decide to just sign it with my soccer jersey number … #18.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I set the notebook down on the stool beneath the sticks and hurry from the garage without looking back. When I reach the safety of the trees and the dark night, sweat's pouring down the side of my face and my heart's trying to beat its way out of my chest. I'm so tempted to hightail it the hell out of here and go home so I can hide under my covers and pretend none of this has happened … but I can't.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, he got in and got out, but he's not out of the woods yet. (That was bad, wasn't it?)**

**Is everyone enjoying the pic teases everyday? We sure have had a lot of fun picking them out! Be sure to check out the blog:**

**les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**The theories have started. They make me giggle.**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**What's Bella going to do? Check back tomorrow and find out!**

**Erin~**

***For any of you that are in the know about soccer: I have taken some liberties with the ODP (Olympic Development Program) in regards to age and timing. Creative license and all that. For those of you who don't know and don't care, carry on as you were!**


	6. Piglet

**Disclaimer: SM might own the characters, but the plot is all mine.**

**Ugh, FFN is such a pain sometimes, but it is what it is. I'm posting everyday so unless something drastic happens, even if FFN is down, there will be an update daily.**

**Thanks so much for all the love and support. You all make me smile every day!**

**Let's see what Drummer Girl does, shall we?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 6 - Piglet -** _**The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh** _

**Piglet's main characteristic is his timidity and his fearfulness. Although Piglet is extremely cowardly, he joins Pooh and friends on their many adventures, and tries his best to conquer his fears. In many situations Piglet is the only one that can save the day; he may hesitate at first but will eventually come through.**

Not more than a few minutes pass, barely enough time for me to pull my hood over my head and for my insides to stop feeling like they're in a blender, before the door opens and out she comes.

Pale pink shorts. A huge picture of Piglet embellishes a white t-shirt ringed in black at the arms and the neck. She's wearing a pair of flip-flops and oh, holy hell, her hair's up. I have to bite the inside of my cheek, hard, to stop the low, animalistic growl that wants to escape when I spy not one, but two ponytails - pigtails - hanging low and loose on either side of her head. Her shorts are so short and her shirt looks like it's at least one size, possibly even two, too small for her.

She's the hottest damn thing I've ever seen.

My mouth goes dry. My dick wants out so it can show its infinite appreciation for how sexy she looks. The blood that races through my veins feels warm, tingly, and my entire body shivers as I watch her practically skip toward the garage, her flip-flops slapping against the asphalt. The sound floats through the still night air and by the time it reaches me, I'm finally able to swallow over the golf ball-sized lump in my throat.

"Please don't freak out. Please don't freak out. Please don't freak out," I chant and bang my head lightly against the tree to punctuate each word.

I should've come up with a better plan. I should've baked her a pie or a casserole or something and brought it over to welcome her to the neighborhood, or hell even just knocked on her front door and introduced myself as her neighbor … anything but leaving her a cryptic letter in the middle of the night.

I don't know why I didn't, besides the fact that as much as I want to know her, find out everything about her, I like watching her.

Call me a perverted sneak if you must, but it's the fucking truth. The way she moves, the way she plays, the secret smiles that come out of nowhere, except from deep inside of her, keep me coming back night after night.

_She's going to freak, and she's going to hate me_ , I think and ball my hands up in tight fists inside of my hoodie. My heart leaps into my throat as she slowly makes her way toward her drum set. I know she hasn't seen the notebook or the sticks yet because she's looking in the direction of the bookshelf as she walks. God, I wish I knew why she has a shelf filled with self-help books, some medical books, and most strangely of all, a book on rebuilding car engines. It's driving me crazy, trying to reconcile those books with her, wondering how they connect. Are they hers? Has she read them, and if so why?

_Oh, fuck_. I begin panting, my breath choppy and quick. She takes another step and then comes to an abrupt stop. She sees the drumsticks and the notebook on the stool. Her head whips around and the wide, fear-filled eyes I see makes my stomach drop. She takes a tentative step forward and then stops again, closer, but not close enough to read the letter. My hands are on each of my legs, fingernails digging into the denim.

_Shit, shit, motherfucking shit_ , I scream silently. I'm such a fucking asshole for doing this to her. I watch as she takes the final step, stopping directly in front of the stool.

Her body is ramrod stiff and I swear I can feel her fear float through the air. Her mouth is open, her pink tongue darting in and out. There is no doubt if I were closer, I'd be able to hear the pounding of her heart.

My feet are rooted to the ground; I'm frozen in place as if cement covers my shoes. I want to move, to go to her, to explain that I was only trying to do something nice for her, to make her smile. I'd tell her that all I want is to be her friend because she looks so much like she needs one … that I could listen to her play for days and never get tired of it. That I want her to be able to finish her song, that it's all I can think about.

I force my legs to move, just the smallest of steps before I'm the one that stops dead in my tracks. She's stepped closer, close enough now to read the letter. She lifts her hand, tentatively, inching it closer, so, so slowly, as if it's a snake, coiled and ready to strike at any moment.

_Oh no, oh God, this is it._ She takes the final step and I watch, spellbound and petrified as she gingerly picks up the drumsticks. Her hand closes around them and with her other, she holds the notebook. I'm transfixed, my lips pressed tightly together, holding every ounce of breath inside my body.

Her eyes widen and in the next moment, she drops the notebook as if it's caught on fire and burned her hand. The pages flutter as it falls through the air. _Clack, ping, clack, ping._ The sound of the drumsticks dropping to the cement floor rings out, hollow and desolate.

I'm sick. I'm so angry at myself.

She whips her head around again and I can see the wheels turning in her head. I groan when she rushes forward and slams her hand repeatedly against the wall. For the briefest of seconds I wonder what she's doing until I hear the whirring of a motor and watch, devastated, as the bay doors begin to lower simultaneously.

Her eyes are wary as they scan from left to right, peering out as the doors close, lower, lower, until she's safely, and I would guess permanently, hidden from me.

I can't move for the longest time. I can't take my eyes off the building. I know she won't come out and it hurts. God, it hurts so fucking much. I can picture her behind the steel, pacing, too afraid to even come out, maybe wondering how long she has to stay in there before it's safe to go back into her house.

When I can't take it anymore, I slowly turn and begin the torturous trek back home. I wonder what in the hell I'm going to do now. I'm at a loss, confused about it all … mostly why it hurts so badly. I climb the steps to my house and then trudge up the stairs to my room. I kick off my shoes and then fall into my bed, having neither the will nor the inclination to get undressed. I roll over and stare at the ceiling; my mind is a chaotic mess, and her frightened eyes haunt me.

The only thing I can make sense of is that I'm not giving up. Two o'clock tomorrow morning I'll be there … watching and waiting.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

***hides behind Laurel* Don't kill me! But really, what else was she supposed to do? Hang in there with me, okay? I have a reason; there is a plan I promise.**

**Tomorrow's pic tease … I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am about the next chapter!** **Be sure to check out the blog: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**There are more theories every day, keep them coming!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are love and I need some after doing this to our poor Creeperward!**

**See you tomorrow...**

**Erin~**


	7. Penny

**Disclaimer: SM might own the characters, but the plot is mine.**

**Thank you all for sticking with me even though FFn is fail. It means a lot.**

**This is a big chapter, so let's get right to it, okay?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


  


**Chapter 7 - Penny** **-** _**The Rescuers** _

**Penny is a timid child, but is gutsy and very brave.**

**BPOV**

The house is nearly silent.

There's the soft whir of the ceiling fan overhead, the sound of the wind outside rustling the branches of the trees that shroud the house on all sides but one. A floorboard creaks, a door opens, but there's not a voice to be heard. Anywhere.

I'm used to the silence; after this long I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself if there was a constant hum of talking … of living, in the house. Words are spoken here, but only when necessary. Clinical and precise, most of the time anyway. There are times they're laced with concern and compassion … probably pity, too, though I try to ignore those.

I have no idea what I'll do when school starts in a few months, when I have to interact with people on a daily basis. _Do I even remember how?_ I wonder, not without a little bitterness at the underlying truth. I mean, of course I know how to talk to people, I'm just … out of practice.

My skin itches, tight, like it's the wrong size for my body. It's always this way as I watch the minutes count down until two o'clock. If you asked me a hundred times, I couldn't tell you what the significance of the hour means. It's not the witching hour or anything like that; it just seemed like the best time to flee from the claustrophobia of the house the first night, then it just became a routine.

It's not like anyone will tell me not to go outside or that it's too late or that I should be in bed. I huff, the self-pitying thoughts scattering like the seeds of a dandelion as I let my mind concentrate on the song that's been in my head all day. Cursing my rotten luck and my splintered drumstick, I think about what I'll do tonight instead. Reading perhaps … or I could dance but I don't really feel like it. Maybe I'll pull the cover off my baby, a 1954 Buick Wildcat II, and do some work on her for a bit.

It doesn't matter what I do out there, not really. Of course I love playing, I need to play, but it's the escape that matters more than anything. It's the freedom from the monotony, of the endless waiting … always waiting.

Limbo … it's the constant state I live in.

The last few minutes finally pass, the countdown to my escape as torturous as it is every night. I can't be early. I can't be late. Why I have no idea, I just … can't. Maybe it's because my life's in one constant state of hurry up and wait, and this, this small aspect, is my way of taking control of one damn thing.

I slip into my flip-flops and quietly walk down the hall, the normal _slap slap_ absorbed by the plush carpeting. I pass a door, stopping long enough to lay my hand on the wood, and look down at the white-blue ribbon of light that peeks from beneath. There's no sound inside, save for the steady, unchanging, _pfffft whoosh pfffft whoosh_. I've become so accustomed to the sound that it barely registers anymore. I wait a moment, then another, before I turn and go outside.

The first inhale of night air always hits me the hardest. I suppose that comes from being cooped up inside almost all day, every day. I don't linger tonight, though, the urge to get to my special place is more pronounced than normal.

I take one step inside and the sense that someone's been here is so strong it makes me sway for a moment. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and a chill walks up my spine. I look toward the bookshelf, my eyes scanning over the titles I know by heart. A few more steps, and that same feeling of unease grows. Turning my head just a bit I see something strange, something so out of place it makes me freeze as if I've been turned to stone by Medusa herself. On the stool behind my drums there's a pair of drumsticks, ones which are definitely not mine, on top of a notebook which is, but which I most assuredly did not leave there.

_What the hell?_

I take another step and can see writing covering the page of the notebook. _Oh, God, someone's been here_ , I think, anger and terror fighting for the more dominant emotion. _Why the hell would someone come inside and leave a_ _letter_ _and a set of drumsticks?_

One more step, and my head whips around, almost in a full circle searching for something, anything, that would give me an answer to the questions flying through my mind. Another shuffling slide of my feet along the floor and I'm closer still. I'm breathing so fast, so hard, that my vision blurs just the tiniest bit. I flick my tongue out, wetting my suddenly parched lips. My whole body shakes, fear and adrenaline seeps from every pore. Closer, closer I move until I'm standing right next to the stool.

With a hand that trembles so hard it looks like I suffer from Parkinson's disease, I reach out and pick up the drumsticks, gripping them so tightly in my hand my fingers turn white. I hold the notebook in my other hand, reading words but not comprehending them. I read once, then again, this time the words making sense … but not.

 _Drummer Girl … last night … afraid … won't hurt you …_ My mind plucks out words, each one more ominous somehow than the one before. Like I've been shocked, I loosen my hands.

_Oh, God._

I turn around quickly, my hair swinging. I can feel the rush of air from moving so fast. I stare out into the night, wondering, knowing that whoever the freak is, he's probably out there right now, watching me, probably through binoculars, leering, panting doing God knows what to himself.

 _Perverted fucker_.

It's enough to make me sick to my stomach. Frantically, I bolt forward, reaching for the automatic door button. I press it once, twice, over and over until I hear the groan of the motor as the doors begin to lower. I narrow my eyes, trying to see, to catch even a glimpse of whoever is out there.

Once the doors are firmly closed I collapse on the loveseat. My whole body shakes and sweat pours down my chest, little rivulets slipping between my breasts. The sound of my breathing is loud. God, it's so loud. I lean over, my stomach turning somersault after somersault. When it settles enough to let me know I'm not about to see the late night snack of sugar cookies and milk I had just an hour before, I scoot back into the corner and pull my knees up under my chin. I wrap my arms around my legs and concentrate on breathing in and out, until it no longer feels like I'm going to hyperventilate.

I rest my forehead against my knees and close my eyes. There's not a sound and it's spooky, menacing almost in its stillness.

"What the hell is going on?" I murmur, the sound of my own voice strange in my mind.

I turn my head and catch a glimpse of the drumsticks; one has rolled almost to the bookshelf, the other in the opposite direction. By the stool, the notebook lies there, face up. I can't read the words from where I'm sitting, but it's not like I've forgotten what they say.

For the life of me I can't figure out what would possess someone to act in such a way, to invade my personal space.

_What the hell am I going to do now?_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, there is Bella for the first time. Poor girl, wonder what she's going to do now?**

**Are you enjoying the pic teases? Are they starting to make sense yet? I hope so, we've** **had a lot of fun picking them out!**

**Be sure to check the blog daily at :** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**There are more theories every day, keep them coming! Some are close, some … aren't.**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are love and I need some after doing this to our poor Creeperward and Drummer Girl! I miss hearing from y'all!**

**See you tomorrow … big happenings, just saying!**

**Erin~**


	8. Flower

**Disclaimer: The characters belong to SM, the plot belongs to me.**

**Is everyone back with me now that FFn is working again *knocks on wood* I hope y'all enjoyed the surprise Bella POV from the last chapter. You'll see her again, but don't expect it often. This is Edward's story to tell.**

**So we're a week into this journey and I know lots of you have questions and some of you are frustrated. All I can say is hang in there with me. This is a slow build, slow burn story. Edward can only do so much with his Drummer Girl and he does have a life to live outside of his nightly stalking activities. Trust takes time to build, but I promise things are moving forward.**

**With that, let's get on with it. A big development awaits our Creeperward ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 8 - Flower -** _**Bambi** _

**Flower is shy and timid with an adorable giggle.**

"Dude, what the hell is the matter with you? That's the fourth penalty kick you've missed in a row," Emmett gripes at me from the goal as he flings the soccer ball back at me, aiming straight for my head.

I duck just in time to miss being beaned in the face and turn and scowl at him.

"Asshole," I mutter at him, even more pissed when he just raises one eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders at me.

As I jog to get the ball that's rolled to the other side of the field, I try to focus. I knew I shouldn't have come today; I'm in no shape to practice. By the time I made it home after I'd stared at her door so long my vision blurred, I could barely stand up I was so exhausted. I really need to fucking practice though. ODP Regional Camp is in a little more than six weeks and I've got to be at the top of my game if I have any hope of being held over to be a part of the National Pool. This is my shot, what I've worked for, what I've spent every weekend playing for, the reason I've spent all my free time practicing. If I want to realize my dream of playing soccer for a living, I can't let this opportunity pass me by … not for her, not for anyone.

Emmett, Jasper, and I have been playing together since we were eight-years-old. Em in the goal, me directing the offense from the mid-field and Jasper up top scoring from places on the pitch that would make Lionel Messi jealous. We started out in the local youth soccer league, moved up to play on a select team from Port Angeles until we were good enough to make a team from the Premier League in Seattle.

Traveling to Seattle most every weekend for games during soccer season gets kind of old, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Emmett plays soccer because when we first started out, the coach told him he'd make a great goalie, which Emmett readily agreed to once he found out he got to wear a cool-looking shirt and got to use his hands when no one else could. Jasper plays because he likes to fuck with the guys from the other team. There isn't a person alive, I don't care how old they are, that can play mind games like he can. He's ruthless, cunning, and he just happens to read body language better than just about anyone out there. If he gets free and goes one on one with the goalie, there's no way in hell he can be stopped. It hasn't happened yet, and I don't see it changing anytime soon. He's a tough fucker, too; he has to be. When we play, he's the one with the bright red bull's-eye on his back … which usually leaves me free and clear to work my magic.

My corner kicks and free kicks are my trademark, and because Jasper gets fouled so much when we attack, I get plenty of chances to show off my skill in every game. I'm fast, I'm strong, and I can shoot like a motherfucker. I'm not bragging, but I know I'm good. Really good.

So, no matter how hot Drummer Girl is, and no matter how much I want to get to know her and have fantasies of fucking her into oblivion while she screams my name at the top of her lungs, I can't … I won't let whatever the hell this thing is with her get in the way of my dream.

"We heading to the diner for lunch?" Jasper asks as he flops down on the ground beside our gear. He stretches his long legs out and tilts his head back, leaning on his elbows.

Emmett's in the middle of changing out of his cleats when his phone rings, the smile on his face a dead giveaway as to who's on the other line.

"Fuck yes." He laughs holding the phone up to his ear. "Rosie, baby," he bellows and it's quite likely she can hear him all the way in California where she's on vacation with her family.

"He's so fucking whipped it's not even funny." Jasper chuckles and I snort.

"Um, pot meet kettle." I wave between him and Emmett. "You're just as bad about Ali, man. Don't even think you're not."

He gets this dreamy look on his face, the one he always sports whenever Alice's name is mentioned. He's not anywhere near as comfortable with PDA as Emmett is, hell, no one is, but there's not one iota of doubt how he feels about Alice … ever. It's kind of sickening in a way, or it would be if he wasn't my best friend and I didn't love Alice like a sister.

"What the fuck ever," he spouts with a roll of his eyes, hopping up from the ground. "You're just jealous."

I am.

Agonizingly so.

Visions of tangled brown hair, flushed cheeks, and haunted eyes rush forth vividly. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, ignoring the twist in my stomach and the heaviness between my legs. _Fuck._

Needing to get out of here, I slap Jasper on the shoulder. "I'm gonna head out. I need to go by Thriftway and get some food in the house. I'll meet you guys up at the track at the usual time."

I try to just brush past him, but as I expect, he tugs on my elbow before I can get too far. "Edward, man, I don't know what the hell's been going on with you lately, but if you need to talk about something, you know you can talk to me."

His eyes are intense, piercing, and it's on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything, but I can't. I mean really, what the hell would I say anyway? I shake off his arm and go for my standard distract and evade. "Call Newton, Crowley, and Cheney. You guys can come over after we workout and we'll play FIFA or COD … no chicks though. Make sure Mike knows no Jessica." I shiver as her name passes my lips.

Jasper stares at me, long enough for me to know he hasn't bought my line of bullshit in the least. One more beat and then he nods, letting me off the hook, though I know it won't be for long. I wave at Emmett, and throw my bag in the backseat. The entire way to the store, which doesn't take but five minutes, I waffle back and forth. Part of me is glad I blurted out the invitation to the guys to come over because it would keep my mind off her, but on the other hand, all I pretty much want to do is think about her.

I haven't decided if I'm going to torture myself by going to her house tonight. I want to, Christ I want to, but I know last night was a mistake. Or I think it was a mistake … it kind of feels like it was a mistake, but then again, it doesn't. On the few hours of fitful sleep I managed last night, nothing really makes sense, so I figure when the time comes I'll make a decision.

Wandering around the store a bit, I grab the standard bread, milk, frozen pizza, soda, and chips before I head toward the back of the store where the deli is located. I'm getting sick of frozen and microwaved meals and feel like cooking. Mom would have a cow if she knew how horribly I've been eating since they've been gone.

I grab a rotisserie chicken and then a few potatoes and a bag of salad in the vegetable section, my mouth watering at the thought of real food for a change. Glancing down in my basket I realize I need dessert so I start moving in the direction of the freezer section, mulling over the choice between mint chocolate chip and cookie dough ice cream when I catch a glimpse of dark brown hair on the other side of the canned food aisle.

_Holy shit._

My heart thumps wildly in my chest and my palms begin to sweat, leaving no doubt who that is. I hear a phone ring, the ring tone the familiar tune of _Fur Elise_ … _God, could she be any more perfect?_ I groan.

She answers. "Hey, yeah, I'm at the store now. Okay, what kind?" she asks as she moves toward the end of the aisle. Her voice, her fucking voice. Raspy, kind of deep, but not really, a hint of some kind of accent, though I can't even think clearly enough to decipher where it comes from. She giggles and I can't stop myself. I peek around the end of the shelves, catching her just as she turns. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her shorts are navy blue today and her shirt is plain white. Fucking A, her legs are even better up close … well closer. I can see the outline of her calf, her thigh. Those muscles didn't come from playing the drums alone, that's for sure.

I walk slowly, following her scent like a damn dog searching for a bone. Oh, hell, I can smell her, the scent of peppermint and sugar cookies so much stronger now than it was last night when it was mixed with the fresh air. Rooted in place like a statue, I watch her as she checks out. Brown eyes. I'm sure her eyes are brown. Seeing her in the light of day is so much different than at night.

I can't take my eyes off her as she waves at the cashier and then goes out to her SUV. My fingers twitch and I feel this powerful sense of loss when she pulls out of the parking lot and drives away.

Yeah. All thoughts of not going to her house tonight just got blown out of the fucking water. There's no way I can stay away.

No way at all.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So he sees her in the light of day! Guess we can tell where he'll be tonight, can't we?**

**Let me clarify a few things I see come up in reviews. Bella stays at home all day, every day, with an occasional foray out into Forks like this one so the chances of crossing paths with Edward are very slim at best. Edward's practicing for hours a day, hanging out with the guys or at his house when he's not, so there's no one for him to interact with that would know about Bella, not really. He could go introduce himself to her, sure, but like he's said, he LIKES watching her … ummm, if he didn't I'd have a different title for my story. I have a plan, I've always had one, and a significant portion of this story is already written so trust me when I say, things are moving as I want them to. I've also mentioned her house is about 20 minutes away, through the woods, from his house, so it's not like their houses are on top of each other, plus it's set back from the road and surrounded by trees (picture the Cullens' house in _Twilight_ ) which would explain how he didn't know she was there until he saw her the first night. **

**Patience, people, there are answers coming, okay? Sorry for the long A/N but I felt like a brief explanation of a few things was necessary!**

**Did you all see today's pic tease? I love Flower and it totally goes with Bella popping up at the store just long enough to tease before she disappears again. Check out tomorrow's on the blog:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are like hugs and I need some after making our Creeperward and Drummer Girl so sad. I miss hearing from y'all!**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	9. Angel

**Disclaimer: The characters belong to SM, the plot belongs to me.**

**Thanks so much to all of you who come back every day to see what's in store for these two! We've just barely started, hope you'll all stick with me to the end.**

**We're back to Bella this time, and maybe a few answers, too. Let's get to it.**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 9 - Angel** **-** _**Lilo and Stitch** _

**Angel is very sweet, beautiful, and loving. She also has a sneaky and feisty side.**

"There you are, just in time, too." Maggie cackles in her way as I walk in to the kitchen, juggling the bags from the store. I heave them onto the counter and hand her the can of green chiles we need for dinner.

Frowning, she glowers at the offensive can. "It's Forks, Mags, not Phoenix. It's the only choice we've got." I smile slightly at her muttering under her breath about how canned is just not the same as fresh and wonder how green chile enchiladas are supposed to taste good with ones that come from a can.

She looks up when she hears the quiet laugh I try to keep inside slip between the fingers that cover my mouth. I give her one more small smile and then put the rest of the groceries away, feeling bad that a smile's all I have to offer her after such a long time. Then again, she should know better after all these months … it's the vicious, unending circle we live in.

The buzz of the electric can opener startles me. She moves efficiently, pouring the contents into the pot on the stove. Onion, cilantro, a hint of cayenne pepper mix with the pungent aroma of the chiles and my mouth begins to water. I close my eyes and fight back the flood of homesickness that wells up in my throat, so thick it's hard to swallow. Tamping down memories that serve no purpose other than to remind me of what might have been, I carefully fold the cloth bags I took to the store with me. It's totally unnecessary, but it helps to lock down those thoughts nice and tight and bury them deep in the recesses of my mind where they need to stay.

"Bella, can you finish up, I need to …" Maggie trails off, not wanting or needing to finish her statement. Of course I know where she's going, what she's doing. It's the same as it is day after day after day. It never changes.

I finish putting the enchiladas together, purposely trying to keep my mind off of last night, but as has been the case all damn day, I fail miserably. I sprinkle cheese over the top, cover the dish with tin foil, and set it in the oven. I slam the door harder than I should, frustration and confusion war inside of me and it makes me feel on edge. I hate it … hate him, whoever the hell _he_ is … for making me feel this way.

The food smells delicious, but it seems like such a waste because Maggie should know by now that I'll only pick at the food … eating a big, heavy meal, even if it's one of my favorites, doesn't appeal to me at all. Then again there's not a whole lot that appeals to me lately, well, for years really.

I wander around the house, knowing that at some point I'll need to make a decision about tonight. To go back outside or not - that's truly the question. Finding myself in the one room of the house where I'm guaranteed to be left completely alone, I sit and think about what it all means. I should be freaked out and for the most part am … I mean who does _that_ , watches someone? But the more I thought about it last night and all day today, I realize that I like it.

Throwing my head back, I slouch down in the well-worn and much-used chair and close my eyes. The steady sounds that I always hear, even when I sleep, even when I play, fill the room. The sounds, I'm sure, for most people are somewhat calming, but for me it's just the opposite, always the opposite. The alternative though, of not hearing the sounds, terrifies me beyond belief.

Guilt, all-consuming and unceasing, swamps me and I quickly stand up, needing to flee somewhere … anywhere. I know where I want to go, but can I? Glancing down at the clock whose numbers are always moving toward … something, I know it's way, way earlier than I ever go outside, but maybe that means I'll be alone. The thought isn't as comforting as it should be.

I go in search of Maggie, and find her in her room, packing. Everyone always leaves … everyone but me. "I need some air. I'll be outside," I tell her, my voice flat and purposely colder than it should be, than she deserves.

"Bella, I'll be back in a few days, just like always. Kate knows what to do," she tells me as she lays some folded clothes in her suitcase.

I shrug. It's not like Kate's a bad person, because she's not, but she's not Maggie and Maggie … well as much as I love her, she won't ever be who I need her to be.

When I don't say anything else, Maggie looks up. "It's pretty early for you to be going outside."

I shrug again, not exactly sure how to answer her so I choose to say nothing. I am early, hours as a matter-of-fact, but my fingers are itching to play. She looks at me, the same look that's a mixture of worry and pity shows in her eyes and there's a slight frown on her face. I don't acknowledge it though, I just … can't. Not right now. Not when my mind's scattered as much as it is.

"Tell me when I need to come back inside." The guilt for needing to escape at all makes it hard to breathe. It's hard enough leaving for the little bit of respite I find in the wee hours of the morning, knowing that at any moment, things could be all better or my world could come crashing down around me. Right now, to take that chance for a little peace, is like picking at a scab, just to see what will happen. "Have a safe trip," I tell her before turning quickly and flying down the hallway and out the side door.

Stepping inside my space, I take a deep breath. The fuckery from last night notwithstanding, it's still my favorite place to be. It's different being out here this early though, when the dark isn't so pervasive and the silence not so deafening in its completeness. I take another breath and concentrate on releasing the tension from my body, starting with my neck and shoulders and then down. By the time I flex and curl my toes, I feel better … at least until I open my eyes and see the notebook splayed open.

I walk toward it carefully, still not convinced that maybe I didn't just dream the whole thing up. Another step and the handwriting that's much too neat to come from anyone my age taunts me from the upturned page. _Well, so much for wishful thinking._

I bend down and pick up the worn notebook and read the letter again. It really doesn't sound as bad as it did last night. In fact … it's kind of sweet. I admit to myself, even though it's uncomfortable to do so, that the fact someone, anyone, cares enough about me to not only listen to me play, but enjoy it to the point that they drove out of town and back to buy me drumsticks just so I can finish a song, is more than a little flattering.

Sighing, I find myself thinking more about the gesture itself and less about the ick factor of being watched.

How long has it been since someone has been interested in me? Since someone has reached out to try to get to know me? Since I've had a friend?

The quick answer is too damned long … but it's most definitely not a simple answer.

Seemingly of their own accord, my fingers grab a pen and I curl up in the corner of the loveseat and begin to write. I know what I want, the only question is, will it hurt me in the end?

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, maybe a few more things to add to the list of what you know? She's made her decision so we'll see how Edward reacts.**

**Tomorrow's pic tease is one of my favorites from all the one's we've picked so far … I can't wait to hear what you all think of it! Find it on the blog:**

**les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are love, and I love all of you!**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	10. Huey, Dewey, and Louie

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Thanks to everyone for coming back day after day. The support is amazing and wonderful and makes my heart happy.**

**Back to Edward, so here we go ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 10** \- **H** **uey, Dewey, and Louie -** _ **Mickey's Christmas Carol**_

**Huey, Dewey, and Louie are Donald Duck's mischievous nephews. While each having a distinct character trait, they share some similarities. All three are shown to be crafty and troublesome and usually think alike.**

"Holy shit, did you see that shot?" Emmett hollers as if we all didn't see what had just happened on the flat screen in our impromptu FIFA tournament on the PS3.

He's sprawled out on the floor, playing against Ben Cheney. Jasper, Tyler Crowley, and Mike Newton are stuffing their faces with pizza waiting to play. And me … I'm just counting down the minutes, the seconds, until I can kick them all out and go see Drummer Girl.

Since seeing her this afternoon I haven't been able to think about anything else.

Mom and Dad called a little earlier to check on me and I was so distracted, my dad had to ask me three times if I'd cut the grass while they've been gone. Mom asked me if I have enough food in the house and luckily I was able to tell her I'd just gotten back from the store and I was planning on having chicken, a baked potato, and salad for dinner. They told me how great their trip was going and not so subtly mentioned more than a few times how disappointed Tanya was that I didn't make the trip this year. As if I care … especially now.

"Hey, Cullen. You know Jess could bring Lauren and Angela over here, probably grab Vicky and Bree, too, and we could have ourselves a real party," Newton tells me around a mouthful of pizza.

I snort, shaking my head at the dumbass. It's not like I didn't know he would try this shit, because he does it every fucking time.

"Asshole, first of all, you know all our parents know that Dr. and Mrs. C are out of town and we all have curfews. Second of all, when we have a party, it's going to be next week when it's E's birthday." Jasper turns to me and smirks like the cat that swallowed the canary.

"And not one word, man. You only turn eighteen once and your parents aren't here. There's no way we can just let that go to waste," he tells me and I can't help but grin back. I'm no saint and a party in my honor sounds like too much fun to pass up. "And third," Jasper whips his head back to Mike, "you can go one fucking night without Jess crawling all over your junk. You wanna get nasty, go do it somewhere else. We don't wanna see it." With that, he chugs the rest of his Coke, lets out a belch even Emmett would envy, and claps his hands together loudly. "Okay, you douche bags, it's my turn. Lemme show you how it's done."

The rest of the night flies by amidst belching contests, and trash talk that would probably rival most NFL teams … Emmett and Mike especially. About midnight, my eyes are glued to the clock. My knee bounces as I sit on the couch and my hand is constantly in my hair. At this point, I'm sure it looks like I've stuck my finger in a light socket or had a balloon rubbed back and forth across my hair for the last hour it has be standing up so much.

I take another deep breath, trying to stay as calm as I can, at least until I can get the idiots out of my house.

"Dude, what in the everliving hell is going on with you lately?" Jasper asks as he flops down beside me. I sneak a quick glance around the room, finding Emmett and Ben flipping through the latest issue of _EuroSport_ while Mike and Tyler finish up their match.

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything, but after last night and seeing her today, I just can't. I need to know where things stand, if I've ruined whatever this could be, or freaked her out so much there's no way we can ever be anything … not even friends.

I sigh and turn my head to look at him. "Just stuff, Jazz. It's no big deal." I shrug and then turn to look up at the ceiling.

I can feel his eyes on me, penetrating … waiting for me to tell him something … anything. Emmett's great, and we've been friends for fucking ever, but Jasper's different. I won't say better because I love them like brothers, not that I'll ever admit that out loud to either of them, or anyone else for that matter, but that doesn't make it any less so. It makes thinking about what happens after high school one of my least favorite things to do. I have plans, big plans, and the fact that the two people that have been by my side for as long as I can remember might not be there is a little hard to think about.

He huffs beside me, annoyed, but he doesn't push. I don't figure he going to let it go for much longer. Jasper's sneaky like that. He'll wait and watch and then pounce at just the right … or maybe wrong depending on how you look at it … time. "Look, I've got a lot on my mind. I'm good." I push on his shoulder and we wrestle on the sofa for a few minutes.

"Dickwad, if you're done trying to hump Edward's leg, we need to get the fuck out of here before we're late getting home." Emmett smirks at us both from the end of the couch. I give Jasper one more good shove just for the hell of it then hop up.

Mike, Tyler, and Ben have all left. I walk Jasper and Emmett toward the entryway, wondering if it would look bad if I push them out the door. Figuring it would, I try to not let my face show how fucking anxious I am to be alone. Hanging out with them was fun and all … but I have places to be and a Drummer Girl to see.

I'm not leaving tonight until I do.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, our Creeperward is one persistent fellow, isn't he? Wonder how long he'll be able to hold off Jasper?**

**Pic teases on the blog:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are love, and I love all of you!**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	11. Ace "Chicken Little" Cluck

**Disclaimer: I own the plot, SM owns the characters.**

**You guys continue to amaze me every day! Thank you doesn't seem like enough to say, but it's all I got! You all are the best around and I treasure each of you so, so much!**

**Ohhhh, Edward … let's see what you're up to now ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 11 - Ace** **"Chicken Little" Cluck -** _**Chicken Little** _

**Ace is timid and cowardly. When it comes right down to it though, he is determined.**

It takes me a good twenty minutes to get Em and Jasper out the door, and only after I promised that they could come over first thing and rummage through the fridge for breakfast did they leave. I would have promised them a fucking seven-course meal if it came right down to it, but thankfully some PopTarts, frozen sausage biscuits, and Mountain Dew are all I need.

I lean against the door, listening to the rumble of Emmett's Jeep as it drives away, tires crunching over gravel. My heart thunders in my chest as I realize what's about to happen. I fly up the stairs as fast as my long legs will carry me. I shuck my t-shirt and drop it in the hallway without even a glance. For some reason I feel the need to shower and change my clothes as if I'm getting ready for a date instead of a night of keeping watch like a sentry at a military post, on the lookout for enemies. Once I'm dressed, again in all black, I head back downstairs, slower than when I went up, though my body feels electrified. The urge to run to her as fast as I can is strong … so damn strong.

I start to walk through the door and then stop suddenly as a thought enters my mind. I run back up the stairs and head straight for the desk in the corner of my room. My school backpack still slumps against the edge, half zipped and overflowing with the shit I stuffed inside from my locker on the last day of school. I grab a notebook and thumb through the pages to make sure it's relatively unused … it is. Health. I snort a little as I slap it against my thigh, once, twice, as I debate with myself the pros and cons of carrying it with me. For some reason, I know that even if the doors are closed and the building's dark, I am not leaving without letting her know that I didn't mean to hurt her or make her upset. Of course I have no idea what I'll say to her when the time comes, only that I have to say something.

The walk over the uneven ground between our houses is the same as always, filled with nothing but thoughts of her. Instead of the rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs, I only hear her voice. Smell her. See her as she walked through the store. I don't understand why my blood feels like fire racing through my veins or why I can't fill my lungs with enough air whenever I think about her, but after so many days, I guess it's simply her.

I wonder, not for the first, fifth, or even eleventh time, who she was talking to on the phone when I saw her earlier. Was she the one that was going to cook, or was someone cooking for her? Does that mean there are others in the house with her, maybe a boyfriend? That thought makes my steps falter and I stumble, losing my balance for a moment because all I see is red.

_Holy fucking shit._

I gasp for breath and my knuckles absently rub back and forth on my chest over my heart. Just the thought of her with someone … anyone … makes me want to hurl. The pizza and chips I'd eaten earlier sit like greasy lead weights in my stomach and I have to stop walking so I can bend over. I place my hands on my knees and breathe in and out a few times trying like hell to convince myself that this entire thing isn't just the most fucked-up, ridiculous mess I've ever heard of, let alone allowed myself be a part of.

I turn around, determined to go home and just leave well enough alone, but when I do, my whole body freezes. I can't move. My hands ball into fists and I press them into my thighs, hard enough to leave bruises, even through the denim of my jeans. "God damn it," I mutter, half annoyed, half resigned.

_What the hell has this girl done to me?_ I wonder as I turn around, stomping toward her house none too quietly. My mind is scattered, and I'm unable to grasp any thread of thought except to realize the closer I get to her house the more lucid I feel. Oh my stomach's turning faster than Emmett's Jeep when he does doughnuts in the school parking lot, and I can feel my pulse hammer in my temple, but with each step, the more right I feel.

I force myself to stop just before her house comes into view, standing with my back against a tree. I look up. The damp, cool air of the inky night settles on my cheeks, my hands that press against the rough bark behind me, and across my lips. I swipe my tongue across them, tasting the moisture and bang my head. Once, twice, then a final time. I hate … fucking hate, feeling this way. I hate the way nothing makes sense. I hate the way I can't stop thinking about her. I hate that the thought of not seeing her tonight makes me want to vomit, but it pisses me off so badly I could scream.

I hate that it feels like she's a part of me and I don't even know her name.

"This is it," I whisper into the still night. An owl hoots in the distance. A wolf howls. Frogs croak, and close by I hear the chatter of raccoons as they scrounge for food.

All these sounds and the only thing I can truly hear in my mind is the way her voice sounded while she talked on the phone. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. If she has the doors closed, then I'm done. I don't know what in the hell I'm doing in the first place, what I hope to accomplish, or what I want besides _her_ , but I know I can't keep doing this all for nothing.

Forks is tiny. It's not like I won't run into her somewhere … the Thriftway, the post office … school when it starts in a few months, but deep down inside, I know it won't be the same. I have no idea how I know, I just do. I can feel it.

The way she plays, the way she runs from her house, the way she moves when she dances … there are secrets there, secrets that I need to uncover. Secrets I need her to share with me. No one should look that beautiful when they smile, and then look so sad when they cry. There's a reason she escapes her house every night at the same time and the mess of last night notwithstanding, there's a reason why she looks safe, comfortable, and most of all, free, when she sits behind her drum set.

Sucking in one more lungful of air, I turn and head for her house. The closer I get, the more I feel, the more I want. I see the glow from the light beside the side door first, silvery-white as it cuts through the sooty black. Step after step I hear my pulse race in my ears and each breath is a choppy burst of air.

"Please, please," I chant quietly. My eyes strain to see farther ahead than I'm able to until … I'm not.

My heart stops and my stomach jumps up, landing somewhere in the middle of my throat.

The doors are open.

And there, on her stool, sits the notebook … open … waiting for me.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, the doors are open, the notebook is there, and who wants to bet whether or not Bella goes back outside?**

**Remember to check out the blog for the daily pic tease:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are love, and I love all of you!**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	12. Vixey

**Disclaimer: SM might own the characters, but I own the plot.**

**Gah! Things are definitely picking up now and so many theories are flying around about Bella, about what's going to happen next, and I love it! Keep 'em coming!**

**Thanks for sticking with me! FFn is frustrating on its best day. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for smooth sailing for a while.**

**Now, let's see about that notebook, shall we?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 12 - Vixey -** _**The Fox and the Hound** _

**Vixey is friendly, caring, and thoughtful. She also has an adventurous streak!**

_Holy fucking hell._

I'm frozen in place. My vision swims then becomes crystal clear when I blink rapidly a few times as I stare at the notebook. She's arranged it so that it looks like an easel. The notebook's folded in half and rests on the edges in a sort of precarious balancing act. Across the front of a blank page … or what looks to be blank from as far away as I'm standing … is a word of some sort scrawled in heavy, coal black marker.

Wishing I had something like x-ray vision or a pair of binoculars at least, I wonder what it says.

"Asshole" is the first thing that comes to mind, followed closely by the word "stalker" or even worse … "pervert."

I look around, searching for something, anything. I half expect to see a booby trap of some sort, maybe a trip wire strung from one side of the open bay door to the other, or even a net hidden beneath a pile of leaves, but everything looks as it should be. The night air is eerily still and there's not another sound save for the pounding of my heart.

Every instinct I have tells me to rush forward and grab the notebook but I can't move for some reason.

As thrilled as I am that the doors are open and the lights inside are on, and believe me I'm happier than a fat kid in front of an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet, I'm still terrified of what's on that paper. The possibilities are endless.

Unable to wait another second, I charge forward, not worrying about a thing except to see what she's said. Inside, the mouthwatering scent of peppermint and sugar cookies assaults me once again, but tonight it's even more potent. The delicious smell hangs heavy in the air, and I notice it's more prevalent by the drum set and the little sitting area where the loveseat is located. I take just a moment, barely time to breathe in and out, to survey the rest of the space. In the far corner, in front of a bay door that's never been opened as long as I've been watching, sits a car covered by a heavy, oil-stained tarp.

Curiosity ignites and I immediately put two and two together with the book on engines that I remember from last night. "Damn, she can fix a car, too? Is there anything she can't do?" I wonder aloud, the mystery of her seeping even more into my mind, my soul.

There's a such a charge in the air, a pull I don't understand. _What is it about her?_ She's hot, yes, but I've seen plenty of hot girls before. She can play music, which immediately puts her in a class above anyone around here … but it's more than just that. I've heard her voice only once, but it's as if every time I close my eyes, I can hear her talk to me.

Creeping in the dark of night through the woods to watch someone, a gorgeous, sexy someone sure, for hours is not at all how I envisioned spending my summer vacation. I had a plan to practice and train, to get ready for soccer camp. I wanted to hang out with Jasper and Emmett while Ali and Rose were gone and then with all of them once they were back, occasionally even with the rest of our friends. I figured we'd go to La Push and spend the days on the beach, make somewhat regular trips to Port Angeles just to get out of Forks and even two or three times make it to Seattle where Em, Jas, and I could go to a concert or to see the Sounders play, or even to Six Flags. I assumed it would be a summer like most of the others, with the exception of being on my own for the beginning of it.

I never expected this.

I never expected _her_.

The distant cry of a coyote pulls me from my scattered thoughts and brings me rushing like a freight train to the here and now. I shake my head and blink a few times.

Purposefully, I stride forward the few steps it takes to reach her drum set, my smile growing wider with each one. The message is for me … unless there's someone else that deserves the name 'Creeper' that's written across the entire page, complete with a little squiggly line beneath it.

I take the word to be a good sign, a bit foolish maybe, but I figure if she can joke about it, it means things can't be all bad.

My fingers are unsteady as I pick up the notebook up and then set the one I brought from home down in its place. My chest's tight and my stomach's seriously angry with me judging from the knot it's tied itself into as I slowly flip the page to see the rest of the letter she's left for me.

The handwriting isn't at all what I expect, though if you would have asked me to explain what I'd imagined, I wouldn't be able to do it. Uneven and slightly messy, it's hard to tell if she was in a hurry, nervous, or if it's just the way she normally writes. A few words are crossed through with heavy, choppy lines. I flip the page and look at the following one and notice the indentations her pen has left. I glance toward the loveseat and try to imagine her writing, maybe chewing on the tip of a pen cap. Her knee bouncing up and down while she balances the notebook on her lap. Maybe she blows out a breath, wisps of hair floating by her face or maybe, like me, she runs a hand through her hair when she's frustrated.

I turn the page to the letter she's left and then lean against the arm of the loveseat.

_Um … whoever you are …_

_I'm kinda freaked out about the fact you've been watching me. What do you want?_

_I don't have money or anything and if you're after something else, I can promise you I know how to protect myself._

Here she starts to write something, the word "thank" from the look of it, though it's marked out once, then twice and then with an 'X' on top. I smirk and chuckle just a little bit, but only because she wrote it again.

_Thank you for the sticks. It's the first present I've gotten in … well, a really long damn time._

_I'll try to finish the song. You liked it, huh?_

_Please don't hurt me. I'm trying not to be, but I'm still scared of you._

_DG_

Oh.

Jesus.

I sag against the arm of the loveseat, almost sliding right off. Catching myself before I fall, I stand up. The urge to pace, to release some of this bottled-up … energy and feelings is so fucking strong. I glance down at my watch and let out a growl of annoyance. I only have a few minutes to get the hell out of here. Yes, the doors were open, but I don't have any idea if she's planning on coming out here or not and if she is, I damn sure can't be here. To say things are tenuous between us is a fucking understatement.

There are things I want, need, to say to her now that the door, literally and figuratively, has been opened. "Shit," I mutter as I think about how I need to get my ass out of here.

Using the only option available to me, I grab the notebook I brought from home and the pen from the shelf behind the drums. A shiver runs down my spine as an image of her holding the pen to her mouth, her teeth gently clicking against the plastic cap, fills my mind.

"No time for this, Edward," I chastise myself.

I write out a quick letter, the first thing that comes to my mind, knowing that I will more than make up for it when I get home and have the time to tell her what I want.

_Drummer Girl,_

_I didn't mean to scare you. I'm really sorry if I did._

_You don't know me, but I hope we can change that._

_What do I want? I want to know why you come outside every night._

_Will you tell me?_

_#18_

With that, I close the notebook, grab the one her letter is in, and rush out of her building.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, not just one letter, but two! And … two notebooks working at the same time *hint, hint***

**Lots of you are catching on to the chapter titles and Bella's t-shirts at night. Tomorrow's pic tease? I LOVE it! Check it out on the blog:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are love, and I love all of you!**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	13. Bashful

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**You all are so amazing! I am loving how excited so many of you are and your reviews every day make me smile so big. I know with daily updates it's hard to review sometimes, and I appreciate the effort so many of you make to review every day! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading, reviewing, rec'ing, retweeting, posting on FB and just for being the incredible readers you all are!**

**Now, it seems as if Edward has a girl to watch so let's get right to it ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 13** **-** **Bashful** **-** _**Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs** _

**Bashful is extremely shy and nervous. He has a tendency to blush and hide his face.**

Once I'm safely hidden, I allow myself to finally breathe. It takes a few minutes for the spike of adrenaline to abate and for my heart to not feel like a wrecking ball against my rib cage. A bead of sweat begins to slide down the side of my face and I lift up my arm, intending to swipe at it with my finger, but whack myself with the edge of the notebook still clutched in my hand. Grinning like a damned fool, I immediately lower my arm and stare at it.

I'm still pretty much in shock that the doors were open, let alone that she wrote me back. I never expected it. I mean I wanted it, fuck did I ever want it, but after seeing the look on her face last night, it was more than I felt I could hope for. I hate that she's still scared of me, but I totally understand it. I mean, I am watching her, there's no way to deny that, and though I know I won't hurt her, it's impossible really for her to know that, no matter how many times I tell her. I'd think she was a damn fool if she wasn't afraid of me.

Now, how to get her to trust me … that's really the question.

There's no time to think about the answer though, because hell fucking yeah … it's that time again. I start bouncing on the balls of my feet, every muscle in my legs coiled and just waiting to spring. I don't even have to look at my watch to know she's about to walk out the door. The fact that my heart's racing and my blood feels like warm fire spreading through my body tells me all I need to know. The door opens, a hell of a lot slower than normal I think, but maybe it's just because the thought of seeing her, here, now, is somehow a hundred, thousand times more significant than any previous night.

_Will she try to find me?_

_Will she run inside her building and close the doors again when she sees I've left another_ _letter_ _?_

_Will she_ _stay_ _?_

_Will she_ _play_ _?_

I suck in a sharp breath when she walks out and stops on the top step. Holy hell, she's something else. The shorts tonight – hot pink. The t-shirt - tight, black, and covered with a huge picture of Bashful from _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_ on the front. My heart stutter steps and my stomach does this weird and kind of funny feeling twisty turny thing when I realize that she's picked it on purpose … for me. It has to be for me, right? I mean, who else could it be for?

She doesn't move for the longest time; she just stares toward the building. She doesn't look left, she doesn't look right, almost as if she's afraid that if she looks anywhere but straight ahead she might see me. I like the way my body reacts when her gaze slides past me, the tingles and the rush of heat everywhere … even the way my jeans tighten to the point it hurts … but as long as she walks down those steps and goes inside her building, I'm good.

Really fucking good.

Finally, after what seems like hours, she slowly walks down the steps and toward her drum set. Seeing the sticks I gave her in one of her hands makes my knees practically knock together. The words from her letter flash in my mind. _Thank you for the sticks. It's the first present I've gotten in … well, a really long damn time._

_How long?_ I wonder. Once she's far enough inside so that she can close the doors if she wants to, she stops. I can tell by the way her back is pin straight and her hands are curled into fists beside her sexy legs that she sees the notebook. I swear, I fucking swear I see her smile and her shoulders drop just the tiniest bit before she takes the few steps forward necessary to reach the stool.

"It's okay, Drummer Girl," I whisper into the night air. "Trust me. Please."

God, I want her to trust me, so fucking badly. I lean my head against the tree beside me and my eyes close. Now that this, whatever it is, has started, I want more. I want to know everything there is to know about her. What her favorite color is, what her favorite food is, does she like to cook? Who taught her how to play the drums, whose car is under the tarp? Where are her parents and why don't they care that she's outside every morning at 2 A.M? Does she have any friends? Why is she in Forks? Where did she come from?

The list of things I want to ask grows with each passing second, that is until I hear her giggle. My eyes snap open and zero in on her like a tractor beam finding a target. She's holding my notebook and she stares at the letter I left her. The seconds pass by, more than are truly needed to read the few words I wrote.

"Please don't freak out. Please don't freak out," I mutter in time with the banging of my head over and over against the tree that's become my second home.

I mean, I've spent more time here, in this spot, than I have just about anyplace else for the last 13 nights. I swear before too long the bark of the tree will wear away where my shoulder leans against it for hours on end. The tip of my index finger finds its favorite spot where I've already dug the perfect groove so that it rests just so.

A cool gust of wind comes out of nowhere and swirls the leaves at my feet and rustles the ones overhead, but I can't take my eyes off her. Christ, just looking at her drives me crazy. She takes a deep breath, I know this only from the lift of her shoulders, and then she sets the notebook down on the arm of the loveseat.

I stop breathing when she sits on the stool. My fingers dig into the loose bark of the tree and I hear it as it rains down on my shoes.

"Play for me," I whisper.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, one more night passes and Edward has some reading to do when he gets home. That last line, I've been waiting weeks for that one, let me tell you!**

***Giggles* I am DYING for tomorrow's chapter … I'll give anyone who can figure out what tonight's pic tease has to do with the next chapter a sneak peek! Be sure to check it out on the blog: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are love, and I love all of you!**

**See you tomorrow … I absolutely can't wait!**

**Erin~**


	14. Woody

**Disclaimer: The characters belong to SM, the plot belongs to me.**

**I know I sound like a broken record, but I don't think I can ever say thank you enough! I know you all want answers but there is a reason to my madness, I promise, and it will be worth it in the end … that is my hope at any rate. So, thank you, truly, for those that are sticking with me every chapter. Your support means more than I can say.**

***giggles* Let's see what this title is all about, shall we?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 14 - Woody -** _**Toy Story** _

"I'm too young for this shit." I moan when my alarm goes off way too fucking early. I grab the extra pillow from beside me and pull it over the back of my head, holding it down with my arms draped over it. When it gets too hard to breathe, and my rank morning breath is about all I can take, I toss it to the side with a huff and roll over.

My eyelids feel like sandpaper and my mouth tastes fuzzy, like I have a few dozen cotton balls inside of it. I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, hard, until I don't see it at all ... no, of course all I see is her. Outside there's a crack of thunder, but really all I can hear is the rhythm of drums as she pounded out the beats.

She played.

_For me._

With the drumsticks I gave her, that I'd held in my hand.

It might be a little bit of a stretch to think in those terms, but play she did and while it might not have been solely for me, I know, from the way her eyes would ever so often slant over toward the arm of the loveseat where my notebook rested, she was at least thinking about me. Not to mention the few times she actually lifted her head and looked out into the night. Every time she did that, it was like there was some invisible thread connecting the two of us, because when her eyes stopped in my direction, my heart would swell until it didn't feel like it would stay inside my chest any longer. My stomach twisted itself into a knot and there was this deep, powerful sense of … more.

More what, I have no idea, but it was there. It's always there.

Thunder rumbles outside and I reach out and grab my phone off the edge of the nightstand beside my bed. Two texts, one from Emmett and one from Jasper, though both say the same thing. No practice this morning. I'm not sorry, though I smirk when I read Jasper's message - _Save me!_ Apparently Mrs. Whitlock is going to take advantage of a free morning by whisking Jasper off to Port Angeles for some bonding time. Jasper has an older brother, Peter, but he's away at school in Texas, so when their mom is feeling sentimental, like she is today, Jasper's the one that pays the price. He can bitch all he wants, but he doesn't fool anyone. He's such a mama's boy, it's not even funny. Since Emmett's stuck at home, his dad has put him to work cleaning out their attic, the poor bastard. That leaves me with a few hours of much welcomed solitude.

I throw my arm out and flatten my hand against the notebook that's beside me on the bed. My eyes close and my mind's flooded with thoughts of her, images flickering in and out of focus. Her smile; her hair as it swishes when she plays. The way she looked in the store; her ass filling out her tiny shorts in the best possible way. Concrete images transform into wishes, dreams, and I let myself float away …

_We're in her building. She's sitting on her stool. I'm on the loveseat, shoes off, legs straight out, feet resting on the arm, hands folded across my stomach watching her. She's so damn sexy and she has absolutely no idea. She knows what she does to me. I tell her often enough, not to mention she can feel it every time I touch her. I'm like a dog in heat around her, rubbing against her ass, or really any part of her body I can reach. Leg, ass, elbow … I don't care; it doesn't matter. Wherever she is, that's where I want to be and right now, I want her closer._

_"Come here," I whisper, crooking my finger._

_She smirks, like she's not going to do what I ask. We both know better. She makes me wait though, just long enough for the grin on my face to fall just a little bit. She slides off the stool and I shift, leaning against the back of the loveseat, and my toes curl into her fluffy carpet. She takes the change in position for the invitation it is and climbs right onto my lap and straddles my thighs. Her arms go around my neck and she's just where I want her._

_"Mmmm, much better," I tell her running the tips of my fingers up her legs, letting them slide beneath her shorts. Her skin is warm, but she shivers and goosebumps break out everywhere. Not that I mind because her nipples are hard and right there. One hand goes beneath her shirt, the other pushes farther inside her shorts and beneath her panties. God, her pussy always feels so fucking good. We kiss. She grinds against my hand and spreads her legs to give me better access. I slide two fingers inside of her._

_"That's it, baby. Ride my fingers, fuck them. God you look so fucking hot right now," I tell her, squeezing her tit with my other hand._

_"Edward, oh God. Harder, more. I need to come." When she says my name, in that raspy, breathy, slight twang that only she has, my dick stands at attention._

_I kiss her harder, my tongue mimicking my fingers. In and out of her mouth, moving in time with the slick slide between her legs. My thumb finds her clit and her legs tense. Her pussy clenches around my fingers. She throws her head back and the ends of her hair brush against my denim-covered legs. She bucks and writhes, chanting my name over and over again. The sound echoes off the metal walls._

_"Yes, yes, I'm there. Oh, God, right, there." She pants and her fingernails dig into my shoulders as she snaps her head forward, hair flying around her, around us in a silky soft, sable-colored sheet. Sugar cookies, peppermint and … her … the smells mingle and meld, driving me utterly crazy. Her voice, her body, her smell all of it is too much and my fingers fly over her pussy, driving her closer and closer._

_"That's my girl. Fuck yes … mmmm. Like this?" I ask, pressing my thumb down at the same time I curl my fingers inside of her._

_She nods, her mouth open but no sound escapes. Her body locks when I press the perfect spot and then she's coming, saying my name over and over again._

"Oh fuck. Ahh, shit," I mumble as my head thrashes back and forth on the pillow. "Yes." I groan, fisting my dick tightly. With a final grunt, I explode, coming so hard, spurts of jizz cover my stomach.

I pant, so loudly I'm almost embarrassed. Holy hell that felt so damn good. _Not the drying spunk on my stomach,_ I groan as I look down, but I've never felt like that before while coming. "Jesus, what is this girl doing to me?" I mutter as I scrub my jizz-free hand over my face. I lay there long enough for my body and my breathing to calm down before I very carefully get out of bed so I can clean up.

The walk to the bathroom is gross and uncomfortable. I step into the shower and stand under the scalding hot water so long my skin begins to prune. My thoughts keep going back to the notebook as I try to figure out what to say to her. I feel like this is some sort of test, and one that I can't fail. One mistake and whatever this is could all come to a screeching halt. I don't know what any of it means, but I do know if I mess up, I'll kick my own ass.

I get dressed and go downstairs, carrying the notebook like it's some sort of security blanket, afraid to let it out of my sight for even a moment. Now that there's been communication, however careful it is, I want more. I eat and think. I wash some clothes and think. I try not to think and sit at my piano and know the moment my fingers are poised over the keys that not thinking about her isn't going to happen. I touch the keys, and in the back of my mind I can hear the deep bass and the pounding beat of the song she played last night. I play along with her, imagining what it would be like to have my piano next to her drums and be so in sync with her, to know her inside and out, to be able to just anticipate the next measures. I lose myself in the music and in the way it feels to play with her.

I play for a long time, hours, until my fingers protest. When I stand up, I'm tired and my back hurts like a bitch because I can't remember the last time I played for so long, but I also feel energized, electric almost.

I grab the notebook off the top of the piano and take the steps two at a time.

I have a letter to write and I finally know exactly what I want to say.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, it was time, yes? Poor Creeperward has had a lot of pent up energy. His letter to her is up next.**

**There will be a chapter posted tomorrow which means a pic tease tonight. Check it out:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are love, and I love all of you!**

**See you tomorrow … Sunday's always make me happy.**

**Erin~**


	15. Captain John Smith

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I just play with them.**

**Thanks one and all for all the love and support you've shown me and this story day in and day out! It makes me smile way big and I love all of you!**

**So, now with THAT out of the way, let's see what our boy has to say ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 15 - Capt** **ai** **n John Smith -** _**Pocahontas** _

**John Smith is regarded for his courage. He is adventurous, determined, and very brave. Once he undertakes something, there's no turning back.**

I walk into my room and look toward my desk but then decide to sit on my bed to write to her. Might as well be comfortable and all that. I turn on my iPod thinking that the mood calls for some Coldplay. Mellow and smooth - just what I need to keep myself in the right frame of mind.

It takes me a minute to clear my head. I stare out the window, mesmerized by the rain as it slides down the glass. Once I'm to a point where I don't think I'll make myself sound like a bumbling idiot, I cross my legs on the bed and set the notebook on my lap. I read her words again, looking for a deeper, hidden meaning … if there is one. Seeing her mention the thing about not getting a gift for a really long time causes my shoulders to bunch and my fingers to tighten on the pen in my hand. I know, deep down inside, that there's a painful story lurking there somewhere. I just hope I can get her to trust me enough to tell me what it is.

With that thought in mind, I flip the page; the stark white of the paper and the pale blue lines swim in front of me before I begin to write.

_Drummer Girl,_

_Thank you for the_ _letter,_ _but even more than that, thank you for opening the doors. I didn't think you would. I won't hurt you. I know you don't have any reason at all to believe or trust me, but I won't._

_Um, since we're doing this whole meet and greet thing a little on the different side, I guess I should tell you a few things, huh?_

_I've lived in Forks since I was in the second grade, I don't have any brothers or sisters, and I play soccer._

_What do you do … besides kicking ass on the drums that is? Speaking of_ _your drum set, why does it smell so damned good inside your building? It's sugar cookies and peppermint, isn't it? Not to freak you out or anything, but it smells amazing. For future_ _reference, sugar cookies just happen to be my favorite. You know, in case you were wondering._

_Will you be starting school, too? Why did you move to Forks of all places? Don't you know that most of us try to figure out how to get out of here, not the other way around. I mean, Forks isn't a hellhole or anything, but yeah, there are a lot of places way better._

_Is it okay to ask you questions? I'm kinda winging it here you know? I don't want to scare you out, but I want to get to know you._

I huff and roll my eyes at myself, pen poised to scratch that the fuck out. Jesus, I sound like a freaking lunatic … _I want to get to know you_ … If I were her, I'd go screaming a hundred miles in the opposite direction from me. I wouldn't blame her if she thinks I'm some sort of Sting wannabe singing "Every breath you take. Every move you make, I'll be watching you," or some shit.

Fuck.

But the truth is, I do want to get to know her. More than anything I've ever wanted in my life. Well, besides being held over at ODP camp and maybe when I begged Mom and Dad for my car.

A loud clap of thunder mixes with Chris Martin's voice as I gaze out the window. This is awkward as shit and totally not normal, but even while I can admit that, it also doesn't feel wrong. In fact, it feels very, very right. Deciding to trust in the instincts that haven't really failed me yet, at least not at anything important like soccer or when I'm in front of my piano, I take a deep breath and finish.

_Please trust me. I don_ _'_ _t want anything other than to be your friend._

Not a total lie. I want her, in every way, but even in my testosterone laden thoughts, I want her the person, not her the hot girl with a sexy body. Mostly. I'm almost eighteen-years-old for fuck's sake, and I'm definitely not a saint, so I can't say if things were to develop into that elusive something more, I'd turn it down or anything.

_I kind of like this writing thing, how about you? I hope you do. I think we should keep it up._

_#18_

I stare at my words, my own handwriting looks rushed and choppy, at least to me. Teachers have complimented me on my handwriting for as long as I can remember, but I don't think it's ever looked quite like this. Of course, I've never written anything quite like this either.

Sighing, I close the notebook and toss it beside me. Chris Martin's voice still sings in the background. The light outside the window has turned from cement gray to charcoal. I glance at the clock and am surprised day has turned to night. In just a few hours, I'll see her again and hopefully, we'll be on our way to a new pattern to go along with the old.

My gut tells me yes … my brain's not so sure.

I spend the rest of the time before I have to go doing random shit around the house. I send my parents an email. I check Facebook and post a few messages on the walls of the guys I'll see at ODP camp in a little over a month. I download a few songs on my iTunes and pick two movies to put in my Netflix queue. The minutes drag by. I try not to watch the clock, but I can't help it. I want to see her, see if she's written anything back to me, and I want to hear her play. The song last night wasn't the one from the other night, the one from when she broke her stick. It was great, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't the song … _my song_.

I still really want my song.

The walk through the woods to her house seems to fly by even though I kind of wish it wouldn't. I'm dying to see her, but seeing as there's a chance, a pretty good fucking chance I'd bet, that the doors will be closed again now that she's had more time to think about things, makes me want to delay the inevitable. I want to be positive, but I also don't want to get my hopes up too much.

As I get closer and see the break in the trees, my whole body vibrates with excitement. There's too much light for the doors to be closed, but I can't tell for sure yet. I walk faster, not caring about being quiet … or being seen. It's foolish and risky, but I can't help it. The need to see if the other notebook's on her stool is so overwhelming that I don't care about anything else. The closer I get, the harder my heart slams against my chest and the tighter I hold onto the notebook in my hand.

A few more steps and I let out the breath I've been unknowingly holding.

The doors are open, the notebook is there, and I know I'm going to see her soon.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, how cute was he trying to write to his Drummer Girl? Wonder what she writes back? You'll find out next time.**

**Some of you get the t-shirts, some don't. Some get the titles, some don't. I hope as we keep going along they begin to make sense, there is a reason for both - Bella's t-shirts especially. All will come in due time, trust me?**

**Pic tease for tomorrow's chapter will be on the blog later: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Reviews are like Cadbury Eggs, sweet and always welcome!**

**Hope everyone had a wonderful Easter/Passover/ or just a plain Sunday!**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	16. Fa Mulan

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot is mine.**

**Things start to pick up from here, thanks to all for sticking with me so far.**

**Now, let's see what Drummer Girl has to say to our Creeperward …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 16 - Fa Mulan -** _**Mulan** _

**Mulan is courageous and self-reliant. She is outspoken and independent.**

"Hell fucking yes," I say forcefully as I burst through the tree line. I don't even look around, nothing but a quick glance toward the side door she walks out of and a pass over of the window in the bottom left corner of her house. Seeing nothing out of place, I head straight inside her building.

As usual, the scent of peppermint and sugar cookies is strong. I'm dying to know how that combination of scents winds up together, and I know once I'm able, that's one of the first things I'm asking her. I stop, taking just a moment to breathe in deeply and let my eyes wander. I'm damn sure not going to squander an opportunity to look around a bit. I notice a few things I didn't before – there's a soccer ball on top of a bucket in the corner, as well as a few orange cones and a pair of shin guards. The ball by itself would indicate just a hobby. Pairing it with the cones and the protective gear gives it a whole new meaning, one that sets my mind spinning. Not taking the time to contemplate exactly what any further, I continue to look. On the loveseat is a well-worn copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ splayed open and face down. My first thought? I wonder how long ago she sat here and read. Was she just here, or was she out here earlier? I realize I have no idea at all what she does with her day, and I want to know. Just like I'm dying to find out what kind of car is hidden beneath the tarp and why there is a picture of a single saguaro cactus on the bookshelf and why there's a scuffed and faded baseball beside it.

So many questions. So many things I want to know.

With that thought, I move beside the drum set. Her notebook, well mine I suppose if I want to be technical about it, is closed and placed carefully in the center of the stool. I imagine her setting it down, then taking a step back and tilting her head to the side trying to get it just so. Move a little to the right, then scoot it up just a little until it's centered perfectly. The thought makes me smile and that weird fluttery feeling in my stomach comes again.

Whatever that means.

I pick up her notebook and leave mine, taking one more quick look around and know I need to get the hell out of here. My hands shake a little bit as I flip open the page. A bead of sweat slides down the side of my face and slips beneath my t-shirt. I unconsciously hold my breath and then let it out when I snort, unable to stop myself.

Her opening line, "Hey, Creeper," makes me laugh, really fucking loudly. I snap my head toward her house to make sure no one hears me. When the house doesn't light up like a Christmas tree and I don't see any unexpected movement or peeks out from behind curtains, I figure I've pressed my luck enough as it is. I hurry back toward my spot, glancing back over my shoulder as I go and wonder if there will ever be a day when I don't have to slink off and hide in the dark.

Although, when I see her walk out of her house just a few minutes later, I find that I don't mind so much even if I feel like a cross between Lloyd Dobler and that dude from _One Hour Photo_ half the time. She's as hot as ever in a pair of bright red shorts and I swear they are even tinier than the ones she wore last night. Her t-shirt tonight has a picture of Mulan on it and I can't help but wonder if there's a significance there. She's barefoot which is just about the sexiest fucking thing ever and her hair's in a low, loose ponytail.

Jesus, she's gorgeous.

Her legs look even more fantastic than they normally do, but that might have something to do with seeing the soccer ball just before. Fuck, I can't even think what it means if she plays that, too. She stands on the top step, a soft, serene smile on her face and it makes me sigh. Her posture's as relaxed as I've ever seen it. A gentle breeze lifts her hair around her face and she tilts her head toward the crescent moon high in the sky. She looks almost like a fairytale, like there should be furry woodland animals scurrying around her feet and little blue birds fluttering around her head while she sings a song about a prince and happily ever after. The thought makes me feel a little bit like a pussy and I'd sooner die than let Emmett or Jasper find out even a hint of that thought, but it's true just the same. It could be the shirt making me think that way, but mostly it's just her.

I settle in and relax against the tree as she walks down the steps and heads straight for the drums … and my letter to her. Even from as far away as I am I hear her sweet, sexy giggle when she excitedly opens the notebook and flips the page. A warmth spreads through my entire body and I look down at my hand, wanting nothing more that to read her words, but the desire to watch her, to spend as much time as I can in her presence, even from a distance and shrouded by darkness, is more than I can withstand.

Honestly, I could stay here for days and simply watch her. I'd need a chair or something though; I might be young and in pretty damn good shape, but even I'd get tired after so long.

By the time I get home a few hours later, I'm exhausted and cold. The house is still, silent … dark and it makes me want to crawl into my bed, burrow under the covers and sleep for days. Of course all it takes is for a picture of her, hair flying, arms moving up and down, and it's enough to wake me the hell up … not to mention when my fingers clutch the notebook I'm still carrying. I don't waste time when I get to my room. I toss the notebook on my bed and shed my clothes in record time, kicking them toward the general vicinity of my laundry basket. A loose pair of basketball shorts, a wife beater, and then I throw myself forward, twisting to land on my back.

"Don't break my heart, Drummer Girl," I whisper into my silent room as I reach beside me and pick up the notebook.

_Hey, Creeper,_

_Or should I keep calling you #18? I happen to like Creeper better if you want to know the truth. And #18, does that mean you play sports of some kind, maybe it's your jersey number? I really hope it means you're at least not a sick old man thinking about turning me into some sort of indentured servant._

_Wait, you are a guy, right? I mean, it doesn't sound like you're a girl._

_This is really weird. You know that, right? And what's even weirder … I'm not as freaked out about this as I think I should be._

_I'm still not sure what you want or why you come, but the fact you do is oddly … comforting._

_No one has cared what I do in a while. It's going to take me a little bit of time to get used to the fact you can hear me play; that's never happened before. Do you play anything? I have a feeling you do. Only a person that plays an instrument would drive an hour away to buy drumsticks, unless you just happened to have a spare pair lying around?_

_As for why I go outside every night, well, we definitely need to know each other better before I answer that question._

_Doesn't anyone care where you go every night? How did you find me? Why do you come back?_

_I hope I can trust you. It'd be nice to have a friend. I need one of those …_

_I would say I'll see you around, but I'm not ready for that yet, but maybe someday._

_DG_

"Oh my God." I groan as I lay the notebook down on my stomach.

I am sorely tempted to squeal like a girl and kick my feet up and down on my bed. She's fucking amazing. I pick up the paper and read it again, then again … and again and again until her words are embedded into my brain. I can picture her almost as if she were sitting right beside me, curled up in the corner of her loveseat as she writes, her toes curled over the edge of the cushion and her hair tucked sweetly behind her ears. Her handwriting is a little neater than in the first one, like she spent more time thinking about what she wanted to say. That thought immediately makes me smile and I rub my chest with the tips of my fingers, lingering on the spot right above my heart. The heart that's beating double-time right this second just thinking about her.

I reach over, hook my phone up to the charger, and turn off the light. Within seconds I'm drifting off to sleep, knowing that my dreams will be only of her.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, things are definitely moving forward, yes? Some trust being established, some patterns being set. I think there is something in tomorrow's chapter that will be a surprise!**

**Pic tease as always will be posted later on the blog:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you.**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you think of the notes, okay? They are just a tad bit important to the story … and I miss you all!**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	17. Basil of Baker Street

**Disclaimer: SM own the characters but I own the plot.**

**Gah! You guys freaking rock! I swear you all are the bestest ever! Sticking with me every day isn't easy, so I appreciate it more than I can tell you!**

**Now, let's see who's uncovering what shall we?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 17 – Basil of Baker Street -** _**The Great Mouse Detective** _

**Basil is fashioned after Sherlock Holmes. He is moody and dramatic, but also very brilliant and sneaky about routing out the clues.**

"Dude, we are going to kick so much ass at camp," Emmett whoops as he punts the ball back to me where I stand at the top of the eighteen yard mark where I'm practicing my free kicks.

I raise my hand and tip my chin toward Jasper, our signal to each other when we're doing a set piece. I chip the ball over imaginary defenders, the arc absolutely perfect so that Jasper can head the ball into the upper 90 of the goal. Emmett grunts loudly as he stretches and reaches for the ball as it slips right past the tips of his fingers.

"Hell yes!" Jasper fist pumps and then does some ridiculous imitation of the Running Man just to piss off Emmett even more. Normally when Jasper scores a goal he's the picture of calm and cool, celebrating with only a few high-fives to our teammates and a slow, casual jaunt back to the center circle.

"Asshole," Emmett gripes but then immediately gets back into his stance so we can run the play again.

We practice for hours, taking full advantage of the sunshine and the warmer weather. The past few days the weather has been perfect, no rain at all, and the guys and I have spent most of our time on the field and the gym up at school training. With only a little over a month left until camp, it's definitely not the time to slack.

Even if there's a huge part of me that wants to stay at home, in my bed, and do nothing but think about her. It'd be damn easy to do, too. I shift a little and reach down to unobtrusively adjust myself, a frequent reaction whenever I think about my Drummer Girl … so it's one that happens a whole fucking lot.

"Yo, Edward," Jasper calls to me, yanking me away from thoughts of long legs, brown hair, and her pretty face.

The sun's high overhead and there's not a cloud to be found in the electric blue sky. Sweat drips down from my hair to the back of my neck and my gray shirt sticks to my chest. I rub the back of my hand across my forehead and lift my shoulder so that I can wipe off the corner of my mouth.

The glare of the sun makes me squint when I look over at Jasper.

"About thirty more minutes then we'll head to the diner. Sound good?" he asks as he throws me the soccer ball.

I let the ball bounce off my chest and fall down where I guide it to the ground with the inside of my foot. "Jas, don't you know there's no hands in soccer? Unless you want to try your hand at keeper. You never know, you might give Emmett a run for his money." I smirk when Em growls at me.

"In your dreams, Eddie. Come on, let's do some one on one with the keeper, boys. We'll see who schools who."

Jasper raises an eyebrow at me and I shrug. Firing up Emmett is always fun to watch, not to mention when he's out to prove something, it makes practice that much more enjoyable. I bounce the ball on the end of my foot and stare directly at Emmett. I don't look down but keep the ball moving up and down until there's a slight, so slight that anyone who hadn't been his teammate and best friend for most of their life would miss, relaxing of his shoulders and a shift of his weight from his right to his left. I wait for the perfect moment, and when it comes, I don't hesitate. In a move that feels and probably looks like slow motion from Jasper's vantage point, I flick my foot, popping up the ball. My leg lifts immediately and I whip it around, hitting the ball with the sweet spot of my foot and watch as it sails through the air and swishes in the back of the net.

"God fucking damn it!" Emmett roars, slamming his fists in the ground once before he hops up, a huge grin on his face. "Fucking A, Edward, that was awesome!" He pulls his gloves off and then runs a hand through his hair. "You keep shooting like that and being held over at camp is guaranteed."

"I really hope so."

"God, I'm full." Emmett groans after he's just consumed more than should be possible for anyone to shovel in their face, even for someone that can eat like he can.

Jasper and I share a look right before he tosses a French fry across the table at Emmett. I shake my head when it catches on his t-shirt, and hangs precariously until Emmett plucks it off his chest and then stuffs it in his mouth.

"Your mom would kick your ass for that, idiot." Jasper chuckles as he slurps down the rest of his Sprite.

The diner's almost empty since the lunch rush, such as it is in Forks, has passed. We're just shooting the shit, deciding whether or not to have a movie marathon at Jasper's house so that Mrs. Whitlock winds up asking us to stay for dinner or go to my house for Call of Duty and frozen pizza when my phone vibrates with a text message. I pull it out of my pocket and groan when I read it.

"Sorry, guys, but plans have changed," I tell them as I tap out a reply back to my dad. They both look at me expectantly. "Gotta run up to the hospital and get something for my dad. We'll catch up later." I throw money down on the table for my lunch and head for my car, grateful that I met the guys this morning instead of having Emmett pick me up.

That might have a tiny bit to do with wanting to stay in bed as long as possible dreaming about a certain brown-haired, hot as fuck drummer girl …

Over the past few days she and I have developed a pattern, or so it seems at any rate. I get to her house about 1:30, because the fact that she comes outside at 2 A.M has not changed, and trade our notebooks. I've never once had the feeling that she's watching me, which considering the state of things is a bit disconcerting to say the least. To be honest though, from what she's said in her messages to me, she's beginning to trust me … a little.

We've shared normal things about ourselves, easy things like favorite colors and foods. The fact that red is her favorite color doesn't really surprise me, that chimichangas are her favorite food does. She loves to read, something I guessed on my own judging from the eclectic collection on her bookshelf in her building. Her dad taught her how to play the drums, but the question I asked following that, _What's his favorite song?_ went unanswered as did everything having to do with where she moved from, what she's doing in Forks, and why she goes outside.

It's like looking at one of those Impressionist pictures; all the little details I know about her don't make any sense yet, but there's a big picture there just waiting for more colors, more pieces of the whole, for her to fill in all the blanks.

It's not hard to find a parking spot at the hospital and I wave at a few of the doctors and nurses I've known for most of my life as I head for Dad's office. Between working here and the fact that Forks is the size of postage stamp, it's a wonder I don't know every single person I pass.

"Hey, Mrs. Cope," I tell the woman that's been my dad's secretary since we'd moved here.

She looks up, a warm, welcoming smile on her face. Her arms go wide and I lean forward, knowing there's no way I'm getting out of here without getting a hug and my cheeks pinched. It's been her standard greeting for as long as I can remember. I try not to cringe when I get a whiff of Eau de'Old Lady … that musty dried rose smell that all old women seem to love so much.

Gross.

"Edward, dear, Dr. Cullen said you'd be stopping by," she coos as she leans back and does indeed pinch my cheeks. I try not to roll my eyes when she goes on and on about her cats, her bridge club, and what the Widow Nelson wore to church on Sunday.

I smile in all the right places, make non-committal sounds so it seems like I'm paying attention until she finally takes a breath. "Um, Mrs. Cope, the package for my dad? I need to get home and call my parents."

"Oh, yes, yes," she mutters, fluttering her hands about while she searches for the wayward package … the one sitting on the corner of her desk.

Once I finally manage to pry it from her fingers after promising her that yes, I am eating more than just frozen pizza and I do remember to brush my teeth before bed, I make my escape.

I'm about to the elevator when I hear someone say, "Oh, Kate, those are the most adorable cookie cutters."

I don't really pay attention, at least not until the person named Kate answers, "I know! They're for Bella."

The name sends a shiver down my spine and the hair on my arms stands on end. My stomach does that damned twisty turny thing again and my heart feels like a balloon about burst.

I turn my head just enough to surreptitiously glance at the nurse's station. One woman stands behind the other as they look at a computer monitor, but all I can think about is the name Bella.

It's her, Drummer Girl. I don't know how I know, I just do.

What I hear next only confirms it.

"How is she adjusting to small town life? Poor thing, she must be going crazy cooped up in that house all the time. The Abbott house is huge for sure, but still …" The nurse whose name I can't remember tsks her tongue.

I've seen Kate around. I don't know her personally, but she's just become my new best friend. "Answer her, damn it," I hiss under my breath.

The elevator has come and gone, twice, but I don't move. I can't. Not if Kate's going to talk about my girl. "She's … well, she's as well as can be expected." Kate looks around and then motions for the other woman to lean down and they whisper back and forth for a few seconds.

Fuck. I strain to hear, willing one of them to slip and speak louder, but when a patient buzzes for the desk, their conversation ends.

The doors of the elevator open and I step inside; a slow grin spreads across my face.

Bella.

Drummer Girl has a name.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, yeah, I guess Edward just happened to be in the right place at the right time, but hey, at least his Drummer Girl has a name now, yes? Wonder what he does with that little piece of information?**

**Can I just tell you, this is Laurel's favorite chapter so far, but the next one … the next one is mine! So, So, SOOOOO much! By the way, Laurel's making me make this disclaimer. There's a grammatical error in this chapter that was left in intentionally – she twitched the whole time.**

**Pic tease will be up later, it'll be on the blog: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**Thanks to all my girls whose help has been invaluable. Couldn't do it without each of you. I love you all so much and would give you oodles of smooshy hugs if I could!**

**Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought, okay?**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	18. The Sorcerer's Apprentice

**Disclaimer: SM might own the characters, but the story of Creeperward and his Drummer Girl is mine.**

**You guys amaze me every single day, thank you! I wish I could hug and kiss you all, but alas, all I can do is tell you y'all rock my world!**

**Okay, this one, like I said, is my favorite. I hope you love it as much as I do!**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 18 - The Sorcerer's Apprentice -** _**Fantasia** _

_"Bella, come on," I urge, tugging on our joined hands._

_"Edward, stop. Tell me where we're going." She giggles, the sound light and free, as she tries half-heartedly to get me to stop walking._

_I turn around so that I can walk backward. I won't fall. I don't know how I know, I just do, just like I know she's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen in my whole life._

_"It's a surprise," I tell her with a grin that makes her cheeks flush with the most perfect shade of pink._

_Keeping both our hands clasped together I pull her along a hallway. It's one I've never been down before, but somehow I still know exactly where it leads. The walls are covered in bright, almost blinding, murals of nonsensical patterns and pictures. Fluffy puffs of lime green clouds, lavender trees with baby blue leaves, hot pink grass dotted with licorice black and milk chocolate brown flowers. Animals of every size and shape … and color and pattern - stripes, polka dots, and even a plaid elephant mixed with mushroom-shaped houses and castles with turrets and moats._

_She smiles at me and my heart does the twisty turny thing that only happens when I think about her or see her. "Do you even know where you're going?"_

_"Yep. Don't you trust me?"_

_This time when she smiles it's even more heartbreakingly sweet, more meaningful. "You know I do."_

_We keep moving. The hallway narrows, almost to the point where our shoulders touch each wall until, with one more step, we enter a round room. There are no walls, only windows, like we're inside of a snow globe … only without the floating snow and without the water. The sun is shining, though the only thing I can see is her and how her hair has streaks of every shade of brown and red imaginable throughout._

_In the center is my piano; the ebony and ivory keys beckon me. Beside my piano is her drum set. Rainbow-colored light bounces off the cymbals. The polished silver of the rims of her drums gleams brilliantly._

_"We're going to play together?" she squeals in excitement. The accent I still can't place is even more pronounced when she's unguarded and free. It makes my blood warm and my skin tingle._

_"Yep. I told you to trust me." I lead her toward the instruments._

_She picks up her sticks and stares at them almost reverently before she turns to face me. "Thank you. It's nice not to play alone for a change." She sighs._

_I reach for her hand, linking our fingers once more. "You don't have to be alone ever again, Bella," I promise her._

_We both situate ourselves behind our instruments and begin to play. Music fills the space, thumping so loudly the windows rattle. Black music notes fill the air and swirl around our heads in time with the chords and rhythms._

_I've never been happier … I don't ever want it to end._

But it does … abruptly and without consideration when the sound of my alarm clock jerks me awake with a start.

"Holy shit," I murmur as the last vestiges of the most incredible dream I've ever had fades away. I stare at the ceiling willing the feelings to come back and groan in frustration when they don't. I don't remember all of my dream, just fragments and glimpses, but there's no doubt who it was about.

Bella.

Just thinking her name causes me to smile. I roll onto my side and see that I only have a little while until I can see her again. I haven't been asleep long, but it was a deep, restorative one. Between the late nights and the practice of the last few days, my body was in desperate need of some rejuvenation.

Now that sleep has been had, a shower is next. I get out of bed and strip, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor and walk to my bathroom. There's something to be said for the freedom to walk around butt ass naked when you want to. I turn the water on and wait a few minutes while the bathroom fills with steam as the water warms up. Remnants of my dream flit in and out of mind along with little snippets of the words Bella has written in our notebooks.

The water pounds my back, massaging my sore and tired muscles. The last few weeks have definitely taken a toll on my body, not that I'm complaining in the least, and it's not like I would change one fucking second of it. Besides finding Bella, just the fact that I've been on my own for the past few weeks has made this the best summer ever. My parents aren't overbearing or anything, but I'm going to be eighteen soon, it's definitely time for my wings to spread a bit. I'm not ready for my freedom to end, so I purposely push that unwelcome thought to the side and let Bella come back to the forefront. It's where she's supposed to be anyway.

Words and visions, both imagined and real, swarm in my head, buzzing like flies. I reach down, unsurprised to find myself hard. It seems wrong, maybe even bordering on obscene to stroke myself now that I know her name, but my dick is hard, the water is warm, and I can't help it.

"Oh fuck." I groan as I hang my head and watch my fingers wrap around my rock hard cock.

I try to keep my thoughts vague, but the harder I try to do that, the clearer her face becomes behind my eyelids. I see the smile from my dream, hear her voice from the store, and imagine her talking to me, urging me to touch her, kiss her, taste her.

A hard nipple against my lips. A peppermint-flavored tongue. The sugar cookie taste of the sensitive skin behind her ear … the sweet, slick taste of her pussy.

My fingers tighten around my dick, stroking faster. A swipe across my engorged tip with my thumb causes me to grunt and hiss. "Oh God, fuck, fuck," I mumble. Never has my own hand felt so good. The muscles in my calves burn, my abs clench, and I grind my teeth together.

"Edward." I can hear her voice in my head as clearly as if she were standing in front of me. I get impossibly harder, almost to the point of pain. Up and down I pump until with a growl I explode, shooting streams of come onto the wall of the shower.

It takes a few minutes for my breathing to return to normal, though when I do, I shiver because the water's lost most of its warmth. I hurry through the rest of my shower, washing my hair, face, and body in only minutes. By the time I'm dressed in black cargo shorts and a band t-shirt, I feel a hundred times better. Relaxed both from my orgasm and the nap from before, I turn and grab the notebook that's never far from my side. Flipping it open, I read her words again, this time seeing the name that goes with the beautiful face and the music that stirs my soul.

I reach for the remote for my iHome and find the playlist I made just for Bella. After she told me her favorite band is Blink182, I downloaded a few of their albums. I have to smile at her letters, the margins are full of doodles and squiggles, and she's used at least five different pens, like she writes one thought and goes back to add another later. I really, really like the thought of that.

Tapping my own boring blue Bic against my lips, I contemplate what I want to say for a moment. Knowing her name has somehow made all of this, whatever it is, more personal. She's still Drummer Girl, but she's more, too. She's Bella.

She's my Bella.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

***sigh* I really, really love Creeper, just saying. There are some big things happening in the next few chapters, moving toward even bigger things. I hope you'll stick with me. I think, hope, it's all worth it in the end.**

**As always, the pic tease for the next chapter will be on the blog later: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**My team, I love you all, it's that simple.**

**Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought, okay? And, if you didn't love this as much as I do, lie to me and say you did, okay?**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	19. Baloo

**Disclaimer: SM might own the characters but the plot belongs to me.**

**Thanks everyone for indulging me a little bit with yesterday's chapter. I'm really glad so many of you liked it as much as me. And even more thanks to all of you who are reading, reviewing, rec'ing, posting, and retweeting this story. It means more than I can tell you.**

**_Watching Her_ is up for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand … along with some of my faves by my favorite people like FictionFreak95 and Drotuno. Take a second and go vote will you; so many excellent stories to choose from! **

**www . Tehlemonadestand . net**

**Now, let's see how Creeper's first night with his Bella goes …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 19 – Baloo –** _**The Jungle Book** _

**Baloo is lazy and laid back. He loves to dance and play games.**

For the first night since this whole thing started with Bella, I leave the house wearing only the cargo shorts and t-shirt I put on after my shower. No hoodie, no beanie, just a well-worn and faded Seattle Mariners ball cap from a game my dad and I went to years ago. Also for the first time, the air is warm, still … and humid, even at this hour. The leaves overhead seem almost wilted, as if weary from the relentless sunshine they've withstood during the unseasonably warm past few days.

Clear skies mean the moon is full and bright; a huge, white polka dot in an onyx sky full of glittery gold stars. My nap has done me a world of good, or maybe it's just the fact that I can't wait to see Bella, but as I jog toward her house, there's barely a change in my breathing. Oh, my heart's beating as fast as a fucking jackhammer, but that has nothing to do with the exertion of running, and everything to do with her.

By the time I see the light from her building, slipping through the trees like my own personal homing beacon, I've slowed down to a walk. My heart screeches to a halt as it does every night when I leave the cover of the forest and make the short walk to the open bay door. After so many days, you'd think my stomach wouldn't threaten to jump out of my throat, but the few seconds I spend out in the open always seem to last a lifetime.

Once I step inside her sanctuary, my heart calms and that sense of more, that pull toward some unknown, inexplicable something springs to life, the same as it has since the first night. With the warmer, moist air, the scent of peppermint and sugar cookies seems to have seeped into every available surface. I can't help but glance toward the far wall of the building where last night I saw what was beneath the tarp for the first time.

"Hottest fucking thing ever." I groan under my breath. I have to adjust my hardening dick when I think about Bella working on her car. Fuck, it was incredible. I'm still surprised she couldn't hear me panting because, Christ Almighty, I was like a dog in heat.

When I saw the door go up then the tarp come off, I thought I was going to lose it. When she popped the hood and cranked up the music, my fingernails dug into the soft bark so hard there was still dirt there even after my shower. When she bent over, her perfect ass raised in the air like a God damn billboard advertising all things hot and sexy, I almost came in my pants. I'm not too ashamed to admit when I got home I had to Google her car and I swear my mouth hit the floor when I saw what kind it was … a 1954 Buick Wildcat II. I'd never seen one before. I still don't know whether it's hers or someone else's, but I'm dying to find out.

Speaking of … I glance down at the notebook in my hand and lift my arm so I can hold it open. I flip to tonight's letter for Bella and read over it one more time.

_Drummer Girl,_

It was harder than hell to force myself to use her nickname instead of her real name. We've come a long way already, but even so, Bella is still holding back so much and I don't want to freak her out … again. I don't enjoy the fact that it feels like I'm lying to her, but I know without a doubt if I were to bust out with her name, she'd go running in the other direction as fast as her sexy legs could carry her. She wouldn't think twice about it either.

In my letter last night I talked a little bit about my music. I told her about playing the piano and the guitar and I even told her some about soccer. I didn't get into ODP camp in a few weeks or what my dreams are for after high school, but I did admit that #18 is my jersey number. I want to tell her my name so badly it hurts, but I know she's not ready for that either.

_You asked me the other day how I found you. Would you believe a little birdie told me to look for you? No? Damn, I didn't think so, but you can't blame a guy for trying. Honestly, it was by accident really._

Here I debated how honest to be with her. Do I tell her I saw her drive through town and I couldn't stop thinking about her or do I just tell her how I found her, skipping the why? The why of course is important, but she's not ready to hear it yet.

_Remember how I told you my parents were out of town for a while? Well, I couldn't sleep one night and decided to go for a run to see if it would tire me out enough so I'd be able to go to bed. I started to run, and after I'd gone a little ways, I heard a strange sound … and followed it until I could figure out what it was. It was you, playing the drums. I watched as long as you stayed outside, thinking I'd never heard anything like it._

_I know it freaks you out that I watch you, but you have no idea how incredible it is to see. Please don't be scared of me. I hope you believe me when I tell you I won't hurt you._

_I won't. I promise._

_Will you finish the song? I really want to know how it ends._

_Do you think we'll ever be friends? Will you ever tell me why you play the way you do and why sometimes you look so sad, like your heart is breaking and you might never smile again?_

_I want to help you if I can. I hope you'll let me someday._

_I'm a nice guy, I swear I am. Ask anyone, or, well, you could, if you knew my name. Makes you wanna ask me, doesn't it?_

_Nah, it's okay. I like being #18._

_'Til tomorrow night ..._

I barely have time to find the sweet spot of the tree with my shoulder before the side door of Bella's house opens. My eyes close, for just a second, so that I can savor the way my entire body pulses with anticipation. When she steps through her door every night, and I see her for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, it's like a little kid on Christmas morning. You know there are presents waiting for you under the tree, but seeing them for the first time makes your heart start to pound and the urge to laugh and clap and jump up and down is so strong you can't help but give in.

I don't jump and clap, I'm not that big of an idiot over the girl, but I do smile and I do feel the same way I do just before a big game when the adrenaline is pumping through my veins and it's as if I can fly.

She looks fucking amazing. Not that she doesn't always, but tonight, holy hell, she's out of this world. Her navy blue shorts are so tiny they almost look like those cheeky thingies Emmett talks about Rose wearing … not that I've ever seen them myself, but he talks about them so much I might as well have. Her t-shirt is the tightest I've seen on her yet. Baby blue with a picture of Baloo on the front. She's barefoot again, a fact that makes my dick harden. It stands straight up when I notice the two braids draped over each shoulder.

Jesus.

Normally she takes a few moments to just stand still but tonight it's like she can't wait to get to her drums. Practically skipping down the steps, she hurries toward the building and I swear, fucking swear, she shakes her ass on purpose right before she walks inside. _Tease_. She's obviously trying to kill me. The smile that hasn't left her face since she walked outside grows bigger when she spies the notebook in its normal spot and after a brief, but no less heart twisty turny inducing action, she holds it to her chest before tossing it on the arm of the loveseat.

I've never been more jealous of an inanimate object in my life.

I know for a fact she's trying to kill me when she glances in my direction as she twirls the sticks around in her fingers before she launches right in and begins to play. No warm up, no tentative taps of the sticks against the skins, she just starts to fucking whale.

After she plays a couple of songs, she stops for just a moment. A few strands of hair have come loose and stick to her forehead and across her face. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and I know with the utmost certainty that if I were sitting on the loveseat, I'd see beads of sweat drip down her chest between her perfect tits. I also know I'd want to lick it off, slowly. That's for fucking sure.

She looks so damned happy, like she's swallowed a whole ball of sunshine and it's just filling her up from the inside and spilling out. It's in the way she moves, the way she smiles, and when she starts playing _Someone is Watching Me_ there is no doubt.

Just like I know she's playing for me.

I watch.

I listen.

I learn with every beat and every smile.

I need with an urgency that should scare the shit out of me, but doesn't.

Tomorrow's my birthday. There's nothing I want more than her.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, there's that. Remember when I said big things were around the corner? Well, they start next time. You guys are going to have to trust me okay?**

**If you want to see Bella's version of _Someone is Watching Me_ you can see it here:**

**www . youtube watch?v=0YPiBiNMm8o &noredirect=1**

**Pic tease as always will be on the blog later, check it out: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**My team, I love you all, it's that simple.**

**Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought, okay?**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	20. The Alley Cats

**Disclaimer: SM owns all but the plot, that's mine.**

**Thank you, thank you one and all for … well for everything. Reading, reviewing, voting, and everything in between. You guys are seriously the best ever and I love you all.**

**Voting is still open over at The Lemonade Stand if you're so inclined to go have a look at all the nominees for Fic of the Week. There are some fabulous stories on there so go vote!**

**www . Tehlemonadestand . net**

**It's Edward's birthday … let's party!**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 20 – The Alley Cats –** _**The Aristocats** _

My phone wakes me way too early and I reach for it with my nose still pressed into my pillow. I mumble a raspy, "Hello."

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," my mom says excitedly. I grimace just a bit, only because her voice is so chipper and I haven't had enough sleep.

With a grunt, I roll over and tell her, "Thanks, Mom. It's weird not having you and Dad here."

It really is, too. Not that I mind being able to hang out with my friends, but I've never celebrated my birthday without my parents. I also can't help the tiny twinge of guilt that makes itself known when I think about the party tonight. I'm pretty sure they'd be okay with me having a few friends over, but I know for a fact that Tyler's older brother is getting some beer for Tyler to bring over, so it's liable to turn into a bit more than the guys just hanging out playing video games and eating pizza.

I just hope I don't get caught, because it would really suck to get grounded from Alaska.

"I knew we should've come home early," Mom says and I sit up. Too fast judging from the way my head swims for a second, but it doesn't last long.

I love my mom, I really do, but she has a tendency to get overly emotional about things, especially things concerning me. And yes, I'm a mama's boy, too. I embrace it even if I don't admit it. Jasper would have a field day with that information.

"Mom, come on. I'm eighteen, not a little kid. It's fine."

She sighs and I can hear my dad in the background telling her not to be upset. "If you say so, dear, but we will do something when we get back to celebrate, okay? Now, here's your father. He wants to talk to you, too. Love you, sweetie," she gushes and hands the phone to my dad before I can even tell her I love her.

"Son, happy birthday," my dad says in a much calmer voice and I can hear him chuckle at Mom. "Do you have big plans today?"

I yawn and fluff the pillow behind my back. "Not really," I hedge. "The guys will probably come over and hang out, maybe swim a little. We'll order pizza or something and play the PS3."

All of which is more than likely true.

"Hmmmm," he says pointedly and I brace myself for what I guess is coming next. "And will there be girls at this get-together?"

I cringe again, and squeeze my eyes closed. Fuck. I can't lie to him. One, he'd be able to tell, even from that far away, and two, I just don't lie to my parents like that. I'm not an angel, but outright lying is something I'm not particularly fond of doing. A white lie here or there, sure, but I won't lie about something like this. Besides, we live in Forks … everyone knows everything that goes on in this town.

Except for apparently the appearance of a brown-haired, drum-playing, gorgeous girl.

Coughing to buy myself some time and to clear my throat of the lump, I slowly answer, "Probably so." Dad doesn't respond, he merely waits for me to clarify. "Yes," I amend. "Jessica, Lauren, Angela, and a few others I think."

"Edward, that's fine, son. Your mother and I trust you," he tells me and I really start to feel like shit when I think about the beer he hasn't asked me about. "We also trust you to use your best judgment if a beer or two happens to make an appearance. No drinking and driving for anyone, you hear me?"

"Yes, Dad."

That's all he says, but it's enough. It's not like any of my friends are huge party animals or anything anyway. Mike gets out of hand sometimes, as do Garrett, Alec, Bree, and Heidi, but I'm not too worried, especially now that my parents know I'm having people over.

Emmett and Jasper come over a few hours before everyone else to help me move around some of the furniture and make sure the pool's ready to go.

"Eighteen, dude, can you believe it?" Emmett asks as he flops in a lounge chair after we set up the volleyball net in the pool.

I run a hand through my hair and look at my two best friends. "Nah, not really. I mean it doesn't feel any different, but I know it kinda is."

"It's weird to think that this time next year, we'll be done with high school and you'll be getting ready to head off to the other side of the country for college or to train with the National Team." Jasper bumps my knee with his when I don't say anything for a long time.

"I hope so, Jazz. I really hope so," I tell him, suddenly a little unsure of the future I had so concretely planned out just a few weeks ago.

Before I spent my nights standing in the trees.

Before a stranger captivated me so completely that she's all I think about.

Before the stranger became Bella.

"The beer's here. Let's get this party started, bitches!" Eric and Tyler yell as they walk in carrying twelve-packs of beer in each of their hands.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Emmett claps gleefully.

I cringe when he knocks into the coffee table with his knee as he hurries toward the door and my mom's favorite vase rocks back and forth.

Jasper catches it before it falls and hands it to me. "Better put this on the bookshelf, man." I look around the room calculating the chances of something getting broken. I move a few things to the cabinets below the shelves and say a quick prayer that the house doesn't get destroyed.

A few hours later and worrying seems like the silliest thing ever. Emmett's walking around with a towel tied around his neck, and a bathing suit covered in the brightest, ugliest fucking flowers I've ever seen. A loud crash barely registers - it's just Marcus and Garrett trying to stack all the beer cans … again. Mike and Jessica are dancing, hanging all over each other, along with Tyler and Lauren and Ben and Angela.

"Come dance with me." Heidi giggles as she grabs my hand and tries to pull me off the sofa.

Jasper snorts beside me and I turn to glare at him. At least I think I do. I'm so buzzed I can't really tell. I do know I don't want to dance though, at least not with Heidi. There's only one girl for me and she's not here.

Damn it.

I shake my head at her and take my hand back. I rub it on my leg like she's got cooties - a move which makes her huff and storm off and makes Jasper double over. "Dude, what the fuck's the matter with you? She's hot and she obviously wants you."

I look back across the room. Heidi doesn't seem to be too broken up about not dancing with me because she already has her tongue down Alec's throat.

A picture of Bella fills my mind. Even in my just shy of drunk state she's hotter than fucking hell. No one has ever made me feel the way she does. I look from Heidi to Jasper and say, "She's not who I want."

The sound of a door slamming startles me awake and makes me fly off my bed like I'm attached to strings.

"What the hell?" I groan and very tentatively, because my head's throbbing like fucking crazy, open my eyes. I'm in my room, but I don't remember falling asleep. It's still pitch black outside, so it's not morning yet and for some reason that's important. I shake my head a little, again because sudden movements makes me wish I was closer to a toilet and gingerly I sit up.

I set my feet on the ground, thankful that the room's not spinning and run my hands through my hair. My mouth tastes like ass; my clothes are a rumpled mess.

_Holy shit._ Ugh, I am never drinking again. Damn Jasper and his whining about missing Alice. I groan again and I turn my head from side to side to loosen the sore muscles in my neck.

4:30 shines bright red, a warning flashes in my mind.

_Oh no … no … no … no … fucking son of a bitch NO!_

I whip my head around, hoping that I just forgot I went to Bella's, that I was so tired when I got home I passed out … not that I passed out and didn't make it to her house. I grab the notebook and then throw myself back on my bed.

Fuck.

It's the same one from yesterday.

A sound makes me sit up, and I wince when a white-hot poker stabs me through the eyeball. When I can focus again, Jasper is sitting in the chair at my desk.

He stares at me, not saying a word for a few moments until he hisses, "Who the fuck is Bella, Edward?"

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Uh oh, wonder what that's all about? It was only a matter of time before Jasper found out about Bella, question is how.**

**The pic tease will be up later. You can see it on the blog: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**I might be tempted to answer a question or two, so find me and see what happens!**

**My team, I love you all, it's that simple.**

**Thanks for reading, remember what I said okay? I need you guys to trust me …**

**See you tomorrow!**

**Erin~**


	21. Chip 'n' Dale

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

***sigh* Oh ye readers of such little faith in my Jasper! Read Edward's notebook … really? *shakes head***

**Let's find out the answers down below. I think a few of you owe Jasper an apology for thinking the worst!**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 21 – Chip 'n' Dale –** _**Chip 'n' Dale Rescue Rangers** _

**Chip is clever. Dale is kind of dimwitted. They are both mischievous, cute, fun-loving, and adventurous.**

"What?" I snap. My heart's stopped, it feels like ice is flowing through my veins, and my head is fucking pounding like Bella's beating on it with her drumsticks.

Jasper doesn't flinch from the harsh tone of my voice or from the glare I send his way. "Don't look at me like that, Edward. You've been acting weird for weeks now. Do you think I've missed the way you always seem to be looking for something … or someone …" he says with a tip of his chin toward the notebook on the bed beside me. "Or the way you're so tired some days, you can hardly see straight? I've been your best friend for most of our lives. You're out of your fucking mind if you think I don't notice shit like that. Emmett's not stupid either, just so you know, he just figured I'd talk to you first."

I don't move, hell, I'm not sure I even breathe for one minute … then two as we stare each other down.

_What the hell is going on?_ I wonder as I hang my head. I wrack my brain trying to figure out how the hell he knows Bella's name, let alone that she's the reason … well, my reason, for just about everything these days.

I take a few deep breaths, admitting that on some level, I'm not sorry Jasper knows about Bella, or rather he knows _of_ her. I don't know how he found out about her, there's no telling. Last night's a bit fuzzy still, but he does and now there's nothing I can do about it. Lying to Jasper's as impossible as it is to my parents, and like with them, it's just something we don't do to each other.

"Jazz, fuck, man." I groan as I lift my head to look him in the eye. "You're never going to believe me," I mutter and look at him with wide eyes when he snorts really fucking loudly.

"Dude, I've always been able to hold my liquor better than you. You should've heard yourself whining and moaning like a chick when I finally put your ass to bed. _Bella's so beautiful, Jasper. My Drummer Girl. I hope she plays me my song tonight; it can be my_ _birthday present. God, I want to kiss her and see if she smells as good as I think she will._ " He snickers and I can feel the tips of my ears burn.

My stomach rolls, and not in that good way it does when I see Bella. I swallow a few times hoping to keep what wants to come up down, because puking would make this whole situation a hell of a lot worse. Once it appears I'll be able to, for the time being at least, I chance a look at him. He's got a somewhat blank look on his face, though the fact that the corners of his mouth continue to twitch lets me know he's just barely hanging on.

"Go ahead and laugh motherfucker," I snap at him again. "I wasn't too out of it to forget the way you were pining away for Ali last night."

He lets go and laughs, way fucking longer than is totally necessary, until he finally catches his breath.

"Done?"

When he nods, I start at the beginning, telling him how I saw her driving through town one day when we were having lunch at the diner, and how I couldn't stop thinking about her. Then I tell him about going out for my run and hearing the drums and how it drew me in, like she was talking solely to me. I tell him how I watch her every night and how some nights she's so sad it makes me want to hurt someone because there's no way anyone like her should ever feel that way. I tell him about the trip to Port Angeles and the drumsticks and then the notebook with the letters back and forth.

I tell him everything.

"Jazz, I don't know what to do." I sigh. "Things are so tentative right now. I mean, I know it's fucked up that I watch her, but she likes it. It's like me watching her gives her a sense of … I don't even know, freedom maybe, or comfort?" I know I sound ridiculous, and I know I'm not making any sense.

"She's so alone. I don't know how or why, but I just know. And me skipping last night? She's gonna wonder where I was, or think I didn't want to be there. Fuck!" I groan and throw myself back on my bed again. "If I've fucked this up, I'm going to kick my own ass."

Jasper still hasn't said a word and when the silence drags on uncomfortably, I pick my head up just enough to look at him over my chest. "What?" I ask with my eyes narrowed.

"Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?" He quirks an eyebrow at me and I'm so confused it feels like my head's going to explode. Between Jasper's cryptic shit, the slight hangover, and the fact that all I can think about is Bella sitting, waiting, wondering where I was last night … or even worse, not caring at all that I wasn't there, has me on edge.

I can't even think about what it means if she doesn't care.

He stands up and crosses his arms as he looks down at me. "Look, if Bella's that important to you, then she's that important to me, too. It's too late to do anything about it now, right?" He doesn't even wait for me to answer, before he goes on, "So what we need to do is figure out what the hell you're going to do to make it up to her."

I obviously have my mouth hanging open or something because he snorts and kicks off his shoes. I take a moment to listen, thankful that the house is quiet. I'm a little freaked I don't remember coming to bed or how I got here.

"Everyone get home okay?" I ask, cringing as I think about my dad and his warning to make sure no one drove home if they'd had too much to drink.

He yawns and grabs a pillow off my bed and throws it on the sofa that's along the opposite wall. "Yeah. Emmett's here, passed out in the living room and Garrett and Alec are … somewhere," he answers with a wave of his hand. "But Ben and Angela didn't drink at all and neither did Bree and Eric so they made sure everyone got home okay. Mike and Heidi need to come pick up their cars later but other than that, everything's fine. Nothing's broken either, in case you were wondering."

He chuckles as he grabs the blanket off the end of my bed and flops down on his makeshift bed.

"Thanks, man," I tell him as I debate whether or not to get up and brush my teeth or just go back to sleep.

"It's your birthday; you're supposed to let loose." He yawns again and I decide that waking up without brushing my teeth is just too gross to think about.

I grab a pair of shorts off my floor, not caring if they're dirty because anything's better than sleeping in my jeans. I brush my teeth and wash my face, then take two Tylenol and drink a few glasses of water, in the hopes of preventing a hellacious hangover when I wake up again. I poke my head out of my door and into the hallway to make sure all's quiet and then climb back into bed.

I don't say anything to Jasper, assuming he's already asleep, but his voice startles me a few minutes later when it floats through the dark. "I wish you would've talked to me about this sooner. I mean, I kind of get why you didn't, but you know you can tell me anything. I'll help you with anything, Edward, you gotta know that. If Bella means that much to you, then I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that you don't lose her."

My voice dies in my throat when I open my mouth to say something back to him. It's not like I didn't expect him and Emmett both to have my back, but to do so, no questions asked, is more than I anticipated.

Of course he has to ruin it by saying, "Can't wait to listen to you explain all this to Emmett though. I need to make sure my phone's charged or something so I can have video. YouTube and all, you know?"

The bastard even laughs when I throw my half-full bottle of water at him.

Asshole, and he thinks he's my best friend.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, that didn't turn out so bad did it? Edward still needs to tell Emmett though. Tomorrow we'll see what happens when he goes to Bella's.**

**As always there will be a pic tease up later: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

***There is a post both on the blog and FB about the Chapter Titles and Bella's T-shirts if any of you are looking for some clarification.  
**

**Still a bit of time to vote for Watching Her and your other favorites over at TLS! Check out all the entries for FOTW and pick your top 5!**

****www . Tehlemonadestand . net** **

**Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought of this one, okay?**

**See you tomorrow!**


	22. White Rabbit

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Because of all of you, _Watching Her_ will be featured as one of the top 5 Fics of the Week at The Lemonade Stand. Thank you to all who voted and for your continued support of me and this story. I know it's not a story for everyone, so I do hope you know how much I appreciate all the love and enthusiasm you have for Creeper and his Drummer Girl! It means more than I can tell you. **

**Now, let's see what the boys cooked up, shall we?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


  


**Chapter 22** **\- White Rabbit -** _**Alice in Wonderland** _

**White Rabbit is very stressed. He is terrified his Queen is going to say "Off with his head" because he's running late.**

"I'm going to fucking kill Jasper," I grumble as I approach Bella's house. The entire walk over I told myself I was the stupidest, most idiotic bastard on the planet for doing what I was about to do.

A pen?

I was about to give Bella … a pen.

"Just do it, man," Jasper had told me as we walked through the drugstore earlier in the afternoon. We'd been standing in front of the woefully pathetic school supply display at the only drugstore in town … and had been there a good thirty minutes already while I debated with him, and myself, about what the fuck I was doing.

On the one hand, I hadn't really done anything wrong last night. I'd hung out with my friends to celebrate my birthday. Sure, I'd had a little too much to drink and passed out, but it's not like I slept with anyone. I didn't even fool around … and it's not like Bella would know one way or the other, anyway.

I would know, though, and that made all the difference in the world.

On the other hand, I know for a damned fact if I were in Bella's shoes and she didn't show up when I expected her to, all kinds of things would go through my mind. Our situation's so weird it's not even funny, but I know, deep down inside, that there's a part of Bella, and it might just be a big part, that enjoys the fact that I watch her. I can tell. Every night there's this one moment, so brief that it's almost like it doesn't even happen, where I know what's she's feeling. Her shoulders drop just the tiniest bit when she sees the notebook waiting for her on her stool like she wasn't sure I'd come back. Even when she's happy, and I know her body language so well by now I can tell the instant she steps outside what kind of mood she's in, there's always this one little moment when she seems vulnerable and afraid.

We've come a long way in some aspects, and in others, it feels like we're still firmly ensconced at square one. She's told me generalities, just surface stuff for the most part, though there have been a few peeks into the real her. She mentions being homesick a lot, but it doesn't seem like it's for someone specific, but more like a time when she was happy. I might not know a lot about my mysterious girl yet, but one thing I am damned sure of … she's not happy.

Not even close.

She might be able to find some semblance of freedom or some relief, however brief it is, from what's inside her house that weighs on her so fucking much, but it's not enough. She smiles though, a real, honest to God, heart-stopping, beautiful smile, when she sees the notebook. The thought of that smile not being there because of something I did, that I hurt her, makes me want to hurl. I might not have meant to do it, but that really doesn't matter.

All that matters is that she smiles again.

And so … I'm going to give her a pen.

The knot that's kept me company all day loosens when I step out of the woods and find the bay doors open and the lights on. I didn't think she'd shut me out, I felt like we were past that stage at least, but I wasn't positive. I've been around girls enough, Alice and Rose mostly, to know that sometimes they have a tendency to blow things out of proportion. The knot loosens even more when I see the other notebook is waiting for me on her stool.

"Jesus, it smells good in here." I moan, inhaling deeply. The aroma of sugar cookies and peppermint that I will forever associate with her affects me as it always does. My skin tingles, my heart calms, though my entire body feels like it's thrumming with electricity, and that pull deep down inside that only happens when I'm in here comes to life.

When I inhale again, because yes, I'm that big of a fool for her, I notice just the faintest scent of something medicinal. Instantly I'm on alert, though I know it's silly. I've played soccer long enough to recognize the smell of Icy-Hot. My only question is why? Did she hurt herself dancing? Playing? Working on her car … or is it from something else? I curse my rotten fucking timing, though I realize I wouldn't have been able to do anything anyway, and now I just hope she's okay.

I'll see for myself soon.

Thank Christ.

After seeing her daily for almost three weeks, going almost two whole days without her feels like fucking forever.

I lift my arm to itch my nose and then scoff at the ridiculous pen in my hand when the fluff on the end tickles my cheek. This better make her smile is all I have to say. It's without a doubt one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen in my life. Some bright pink bird-looking thing with googly eyes, with a plume of glittery nylon imitation hair. Just looking at the thing makes me shake my damn head at myself … and the things I'm willing to do for this girl.

I rest against the arm of the loveseat, taking just a moment to look over the letter I wrote her.

_Drummer Girl,_

_I'm sorry._

_I didn't mean to miss seeing you last night. I wanted to be here; I hope you believe that._

_It was my 1_ _8th_ _birthday and my friends wanted to have a party and I ah_ _…_ _um, had a bit too much to drink and fell asleep. I didn't pass out though, so don't go thinking I had a wild time or anything, in fact … I spent most of the night wishing you were there._

_Do you think sometime you might want to meet my friends? I really want you to._ _Of course you know that means you and I would have to meet first. I'm totally not opposed to that, just so you know._

_It's a little embarrassing to admit how often I think about you, but it's the truth. Did I hurt you by not coming last night? Could you tell I wasn't here? Sometimes I think you can sense me, other times, I wonder._

_And uh_ _…_ _the pen. It's stupid I know, but I wanted to make you smile._

_You don't smile enough. I want to change that._

_Please don't be mad at me._

_Please don't hide from me again._

_#18_

I pick up her notebook and leave mine in its place and set the goofy pen on top. I can't even imagine what she'll think when she sees it, though a quick glance at my watch tells me I won't have to wait long. I'm more reluctant than normal to leave, and as usual, I wonder how much longer we can keep this up, how much longer we _have_ to keep it up.

I know the answer though. It's simple.

I'll wait as long as I have to.

There's no other way.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, he bought her a pen. Poor guy, he's trying so hard, isn't he? This is a big week for these two, there will be lots of information, lots of secrets shared, and some pretty big decisions made. Are you ready? I know you are. I've had a very firm time line in place for this story from the beginning and things have to happen in order. I understand that might be frustrating at times for some of you, but it is what it is. There's a pace and flow to the story that I have to keep to, so things are moving just like I want them to.**

**The pic tease will be up later, like always, on the blog:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

***There is a post both on the blog and FB about the Chapter Titles and Bella's T-shirts if any of you are looking for some clarification.**

**Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought of this one, okay?**

**See you tomorrow!**

**Erin**


	23. Tiger Lily

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**You all seriously make my day, every single day. Thank you for all the love and support and for reading day in and day out and reviewing, rec'ing, posting, and retweeting. I just … no words but thank you.**

**So, without any further ado, let's get to it …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 23 – Tiger Lily –** _**Peter Pan** _

**Tiger Lily is rather stoic. She comes off as aloof, but in reality she is just very proud and brave.**

A good five minutes pass before Bella comes outside. I know, because my eyes keep dropping down to my watch every few seconds while I've been waiting. I have no idea what to expect. Anger, sadness, supremely pissed-off? It could be any one or all of them, I guess. The door opens and out she steps. I stop breathing. It takes every ounce of energy I have churning inside of me to keep my feet planted on the ground when all I want to do is run to her and scoop her up and give her a hug.

Instead, I stay where I am, too far away to do anything but watch.

Always watching.

A quick scan of her body from head to foot and I don't see any bandages or bruises. Thank God. The thought of her being injured makes me sick, a reaction I don't think should be quite as gut-wrenching as it is, but I can't help it either. We might not have ever said a word to each other, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't do just about anything for her ... scaring the bejesus out of her notwithstanding. There's a slight hesitation that I've never seen before as she closes the door behind her and it makes my entire body still.

I suck in a sharp breath, praying, "Please don't go back inside." I whisper the words, urging her to listen even though I know she can't hear me.

As usual she's wearing a t-shirt decorated with a Disney character but tonight it takes me more than a few minutes to figure out who it is. When I do, a surge of emotion wells up deep inside of me, filling every space with a mixture of disbelief and dread, mingled with just enough hope to make me warm all over.

Tiger Lily.

I wrack my brain and try to think about what I know of her character. Of course _Peter Pan_ is Alice's favorite movie, so to say I've seen it lots of times is a fucking understatement. She must've made us all watch that movie no less than a hundred times while we were growing up, and it didn't stop when we reached high school either.

Brave, loyal, and most of all, self-sacrificing.

The first one is my girl for sure, the second two, well, I don't know for a fact are her, but it damn sure fits everything I know about her. More than any other night before, I want to walk right up to her and really talk to her. I want to be able to look into her eyes, and hold her hand, and see, up close, every single solitary thing about her that makes her … Bella.

Does she have freckles across her nose? Does she paint her fingernails or bite them? Does her hair smell like peppermint or sugar cookies … or is it a combination of both? Are her eyes dark brown like coffee or lighter like cinnamon?

So many things I still don't know; so many things that I want to know. I want to feel her and see her smile while our noses are so close they almost touch. I want to listen to her talk and laugh and maybe even sing, adorably off-key I bet, and tell me every secret she has and the story behind every scar on her body.

I'm so ready for more, more of her, more of whatever crazy, scary, amazing thing this is between us. She's not ready, she's not even close, and I know it. How could she be? Hell, half the time I'm scared out of my mind wondering what's going to happen between us, and the other half I can't do anything but picture her naked and wrapped around me in ways I've only seen in movies.

She gingerly walks down the steps as if she's testing her weight on whatever it is she's injured, but when she reaches the bottom she moves quickly inside her building and straight toward the stool where my notebook and the ridiculous pen await her.

My legs feel like they'll give way any second now and I know my fingers have done a real number on the notebook in my hand. I can hear the edges of the paper crinkle as I rub it against my thigh. A bank of dark clouds drift high above me, obscuring the crescent moon that lies almost on its side. For just a moment, while the wind blows the clouds silently across the sky, I'm shrouded completely in darkness. It's so dark that I can barely see my hand in front of my face. The only thing I can see is Bella. My eyes are riveted to her and I can feel my stomach twist and turn and rise and fall with every step she takes.

When it literally feels like I could jump out of my skin from nervousness, her laugh fills the air. And when I say laugh, I mean really laugh … like one that starts at the tips of her toes and shoots all the way up her body. She throws her head back, her shoulders shake, and it's honestly the best damn sound I've ever heard in my life. Her smile is brighter than the moon that's just escaped from the cloud cover and a million times sweeter than the best candy. If Jasper were here, I'd have to hug him, and thank him, and tell him he was right … all of which makes me fucking happy he's not here.

Instead of laying the notebook, which is now in her hand along with the pen, on the arm of the loveseat like she normally does, she sits down and curls up in the corner. She opens it and my heart stops while she reads my words. _What the hell is she thinking?_ I wonder. I would give just about anything to know. It doesn't take long for her to read, a few minutes at most, but I swear they are the longest minutes - it feels like hours.

When she's finally done, she lays the notebook down beside her but doesn't close it. She looks at it though, for just a moment before she lifts her head, turns, and stares out into the night … and straight at me. I can feel it. I feel the hope and the want and the need and the sadness and the fear and the comfort … and about a hundred other things mixed together that my words have given her. Will I keep coming back? Will I understand? Will I hurt her?

She wants to trust me, I know she does, but she's so afraid. Afraid of me. Afraid of whatever's inside her house. Afraid of trusting in things she can't see and in presents and notebooks that appear out of nowhere, no matter that they're given with nothing but the best of intentions.

"Please, Bella," I say softly, though I have no idea what I'm asking of her.

Trust me.

Believe in me.

Talk to me.

She doesn't move for the longest time, her eyes never waver as she searches for something I can't help her find. Eventually though, she finds what she's looking for because she grabs the notebook, my pen, and begins to write.

And write.

For hours.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, yes, Bella will be giving you some answers. Next up is Edward and an important talk with Jasper.**

**There will be a pic tease on the blog later, like always, if you're interested: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

***There is a post both on the blog and FB about the Chapter Titles and Bella's T-shirts if any of you are looking for some clarification.**

**Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought of this one, okay?**

**See you tomorrow … we're getting there people, just hang in there with me a little longer!**

**Erin**


	24. Jiminy Cricket

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**WOW! You guys sure know how to start my week off with a bang! I think y'all loved the pen as much as Bella! Thank you … just, yeah, thanks so much for everything.**

**We're still building folks, but Bella's letter is just around the corner. I'm not stretching things out on purpose, promise. There's a reason to my madness, you'll see!**

**Now, onward we go ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 24 – Jiminy Cricket -** _**Pinocchio** _

**Jiminy Cricket is the greatest friend. He's dedicated, wise, and loyal. He's easy-going, but tells you like it is!**

By the time Bella goes inside, I can't feel my feet, my hands, or even my lips. It's been hours. Hours of watching her write and pace, and run her fingers through her hair, and sit still as a statue. She's cried and smiled and chewed her fingernails and sat huddled in the corner of the loveseat with her knees pulled up beneath her chin and her arms wrapped tightly around them.

It's the longest she's ever stayed outside and while I would never want to cut my time with her short, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that when the sky started to turn lavender and then mauve as the sun began to rise, I wasn't getting a tad worried. And confused. And anxious. And really fucking ready to see what tonight might bring.

Yes, I know, I'm insane. The girl's just gone inside and already I'm counting down the minutes until tonight. The absolute need that's bubbling and brewing inside of me to see if she's opened up and finally let me in is like a powder keg just waiting for a spark … I'm on the brink of exploding.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I turn around and run home. It's the first time it has ever been this late, or early if I want to get technical about it considering it's just barely sunup. There's a fine layer of dew that covers the ground and by the time I clear the steps leading up to our front porch in one long stride, my shoes are soaked.

After I kick off my shoes, I head straight for the kitchen and chug some orange juice. I take time to notice how utterly still and silent my house is with no one at home other than me. There's not a sound besides the quiet, steady hum of the refrigerator and the gentle swish of the pendulum of the grandfather clock in the living room This summer's not the first time I've stayed home alone, but it is the first time it's been for so long. My parents spending the night in Seattle after one of my dad's doctor functions is a hell of a lot different than a month of nights alone.

I lean against the island and stare out the window, not really seeing anything … well, except for Bella of course. I can feel the corners of my lips lift and the twisty turny thing my stomach does when I even so much as think her name kicks in and then … yep, right on schedule, my dick's harder than a damned rock. I care about Bella, I truly and honestly do, but fuck, I'm not blind. She's fucking hot, and the more time I spend watching her and the more things I find out about her only makes her hotter.

Suddenly I'm exhausted. The adrenaline has burned away leaving nothing but bone deep fatigue so pervasive even my hair hurts … my eyelashes and my fingernails, too. With what little energy I have left, I put the juice back in the fridge and slowly climb up the stairs to my bedroom. Half asleep by the time I reach the top step, I'm barely able to toss Bella's notebook on my bed. I somehow manage to get undressed without hurting myself or falling over, and naked, I walk into the bathroom.

The hot water feels fucking amazing. My head falls forward as the streams loosen my aching muscles … well all but one muscle which of course is anything but relaxed. Between the party the other night, talking to Jasper, and then the whirlwind of emotions surrounding Bella, I'm just … wiped. And hard, and wound up tighter than a Jack-in-the-Box right before it's about to spring. Feeling no shame, because, really, by this time, what's the fucking point, I close my eyes and let my mind do its thing while my hand does the same.

Bella, as if there's anyone else, immediately comes into focus and I'm immersed in visions, some crystal clear, some just vague images. I hear her voice as she cries out my name when she comes. I feel her hot and slick on my fingers. I taste her, a mixture of peppermint and sugar cookies with a hint of hot chilé pepper and something even more obscure, citrusy, tangy … her neck, her nipples, her pussy. I imagine what it would feel like to be buried deep inside of her and feel her smooth, sinewy legs wrapped around my waist and her heels digging into my ass.

My fingers grip my dick harder and I pump, up and down, swiping my thumb through the bead of liquid at the end. The shower pelts my back, but all I can feel is her mouth, hot and wrapped around my hard cock. All I can see is her eyes as she stares up at me from her knees, burning straight into mine.

"Oh, God. Oh, fuck, fuck." I groan as the pictures and sounds swirl so fast I can't even concentrate.

The muscles in my legs lock, my stomach clenches and then I come with a roar. My heart hammers in my chest, as I keep my fingers wrapped tightly around my throbbing cock until every drop of come is expelled.

"Son of a bitch." I pant, my body sagging in relief.

Once my shower's done and I've dried off, I pull on a pair of loose basketball shorts, sans boxers, and drop down on my bed. I reach for my cell phone and tap the screen to call Jasper.

"What the hell?" he mumbles because he's still asleep like any sane teenager would be at a little after six in the morning.

I huff at him, though I shouldn't. "It's me."

"Edward?"

I snicker because Jasper's about the least coherent person around when he first wakes up. It takes him at least one Mountain Dew to even be semi-human in the morning.

"Of course it's me." I huff again. My mind's racing with everything about last night, so fast I have to close my eyes … which in all actuality only makes things worse because then all I can see is her.

I hear rustling in the background, a grunt, then a yawn. "So, did you do it? What happened? Did you see Bella? What'd she say, did she say anything? Come on, spill," he spits out rapid fire, so fast I can hear him take a deep breath when he's done.

"Yeah, I did it. I still can't believe I let you talk me into that fucking ridiculous pen … but it made her laugh, so I suppose I can't kick your ass now." We laugh but then it dies pretty damn fast because words and feelings and a whole smorgasbord of shit is spinning around inside of me and I need to talk about it.

So I do.

And he listens and listens and snorts a few times and sighs, and I even think he laughs, but he tries to cover it up with a yawn so I can't be too sure.

"I don't know, Jas." I groan once I've told him everything. "Watching her write was the most surreal thing," my voice trails off as the question I really want to ask him sits right on the tip of my tongue. Finding my balls mostly because I know Jasper won't ever lie to me, I ask, "What if I can't handle what she tells me? You've never seen Bella, but if you did, you'd know there's something going on with her, and it's bad, Jasper, I know it is. I can feel it."

He doesn't say anything for the longest time, but it doesn't bother me. He's thinking, putting things together … dissecting, and looking at the issue from every possible angle. That's Jasper, it's what he does, and why I always know that I can go to him with anything.

So I wait.

"Look, Edward," he begins in his no bullshit voice. I expect no less. I need no less, because really, if I can't handle what Bella's going through, then I need to get the fuck off this train right now … before I wind up hurting her somehow, someway. "You care about her, don't you? I mean, I know you think she's hotter than sin, but this … whatever you want to call it, is more than just wanting to see her naked or getting a piece of ass, right?"

"You know it is," I snap. "If all I wanted was a piece of ass, I would've gone to Alaska with my parents and had Tanya every which way but loose. You saw Gia and Heidi the other night. I can get a girl any damn time I want to, but Bella's different. I don't know how I know, I just do. It's fucked up and it scares the shit out of me, but she's … she's special." I sigh softly and I don't miss the light chuckle from the other end.

"I think you just answered your own question, my friend. You'll do whatever you need to because you want to, because Bella means enough to you to try to help her. You know we're all here for you, Edward, and that means we're here for Bella, too. Emmett, Ali, and Rose, even your parents, we'll all help."

I can't help but laugh at how absurd he sounds. Oh, he means every word, I know he does, but still. "Bella doesn't even know my damned name, Jasper, and we're talking about her like we've known her forever."

The irony isn't lost on me.

He laughs along with me and then clears his throat in that way he does when he's about to say something I might not want to hear. "You know, Google is a wonderful thing. I'm pretty fucking sure if we did some digging we could find out everything you need to know with a few searches."

Oh yeah, not only is Jasper scary perceptive, he's also wicked smart when it comes to computers … hacking especially. I shake my head before he's done talking even though he can't see me. "Uh uh, Jas, no way. I'm not doing that to her. I want, I need," I emphasize heatedly, "Bella to trust me. I want her to want to talk to me. It's already bad enough I know her name and haven't told her. No, whatever she wants me to know, she can tell me herself."

My voice leaves no room for discussion and Jasper's smart enough to let it go. "So, what'd she say last night?" He's teasing, but boy is his curiosity simmering and about to boil over.

I grab the notebook and lay it on my chest. My fingers flick at the edge of the paper and now all I want to do is read, then go to sleep.

"Yeah, like I'm telling you, asshole," I scoff. "Sorry I woke you up, but thanks for listening. I'm going to sleep 'til lunch time then I'll catch up with you guys for afternoon practice."

We say goodbye and I read her letter. It's a hell of a lot better than I imagined, though I really shouldn't have worried to begin with. She's not mad, thankfully, and she told me she missed me, even though she thought that was kind of messed up seeing as how she's never even seen me. She was worried that something had happened to me and hoped I was okay. I read it no less than five times before sleep claims me; my last thought being _tonight's the night where it all changes_.

I just know it.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, I think I really love Jasper, just saying. Next up, Edward gets the notebook, and y'all will see what Bella has to say. It takes a few chapters to get through everything, just a heads up now, okay.**

**Pic tease on the blog later. Gotta tell you all, these next few have been a little difficult to pick, but I think we got them down pretty good.**

**We're here folks, right where I've wanted to get to right from the very beginning. I'm super excited for this week, hope you are, too!**

**Keep talking to me, I love hearing from you!**

**See you tomorrow ...**


	25. Cave of Wonders

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Thank you, everyone, for sticking with me this far. I know it's been frustrating at times, but I appreciate the trust and the faith. I think it'll be worth it in the end; I hope so anyway.**

**Okay, this announcement will be in place for the next little bit: I have a flow, I have a plan, and there will be chapters that end in places you might not want them to. It's for a reason, I promise. It's not to ramp up suspense or for any reason other than it's the natural place for the chapters to end so I can move to the next part. Take that as you will. These next few chapters are what the beginning ones have all been moving toward and they will be the basis for how Edward and Bella move forward. Just wanted to let you know what to expect …**

**So, without any further ado, let's get to it ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 25** **\- Cave of Wonders -** _**Aladdin** _

**If you're willing to enter the cave and take a piece of the treasure, it may keep you forever.**

"Dude." Emmett shakes his head at me and all I can do is shrug my shoulders. Practice has been a complete waste of time. I know it and he sure as hell does when he tucks the soccer ball under his arm instead of punting it back to me so I can try my free kick again.

Jasper shoots me a look and arches his eyebrow at me saying without speaking, "You're going to have to tell him sooner or later."

I know, and I will … but not today.

I don't like feeling like I'm keeping things from Emmett, but I just can't deal with him right now. Whereas Jasper's cool and pretty levelheaded about things … unless you piss him off or hurt Alice in some way, Emmett's the complete opposite. He's loud and enthusiastic and … well, loud. If I told him about Bella right now, I'd still be here tomorrow morning answering his never-ending questions. He always, _always_ , means well, and I love him for wanting nothing but for me and for those he cares about to be happy, but I don't have the energy it takes to talk to him and then deal with whatever awaits me when I get to Bella's later.

Emmett looks at me then to Jasper and then back to me again. "Okay, one of you is going to tell me what the hell is going on. I don't care who it is, but one of you better start spilling."

Jasper glances at me and does this sort of half shake half nod thing that makes him look like a bobblehead doll with a head that bounces all over the damn place. And of course, he's leaving things completely in my court … which I admit is only right, but it doesn't make it any better or easier.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and square my shoulders before I look at Emmett. I cringe a little bit when he glares at me, which, honestly, I deserve. Fuck. "Emmett, look, there's some shit going on that I need to talk to you about, but I can't do it right now."

"Does Jasper know what it is?" he interrupts, and I don't miss the hard edge to his voice. He's pissed and hurt, and I feel like an asshole.

"Yes." I can't lie, that will just make things worse.

Emmett glares at both me and Jasper before turning around and stomping toward his bag. He slings it over his shoulder and flips us off, with both hands, when we call his name. I don't blame him for being angry, but I don't like it either.

"Son of a bitch," I mutter and curl my fingers into tight fists when Em peels out of the parking lot so fast that he leaves a trail of smoke in his wake.

"He'll be fine when he's a chance to cool off. You know how he gets. Dude's as emotional as a pre-teen girl on her period." We both laugh because it's true enough, even though I hate that I'm the one he's pissed off at … it's usually Jasper.

We look at each other and laugh again when we come to the same realization - we don't have a ride home. Thankfully Ben takes pity on us and comes and picks up our sorry asses and takes each of us home, dropping me off first, for which I'm extremely grateful.

I tap out a text to Emmett, apologizing again as I walk up the front steps and then put him out of my mind for the time being. He'll be fine, like Jasper said, when he's had time to cool off for a bit. We've all been friends long enough that this is barely a hiccup. It's not like we haven't argued before, and we'll definitely do it again, besides, I have other things to worry about right now.

The rest of the afternoon drags on, but I shower and nap and make some spaghetti for dinner, all the while watching the clock and wondering what tonight will bring.

It seems as if there's a huge something waiting at the end of an unseen path I'm on. I have no idea what it is or what I'm going toward, only that Bella's there at the end.

The walk to her house seems different tonight. I don't hurry, but I don't lollygag either. I think about my letter to her, though it's really just a repeat of the one from the night before. I apologize again for not showing up, even though I don't think it's as big of a deal as I made it out to be in my head. I do have a tendency to over-think at times. Plus, if it spurred Bella to open up to me, then I really can't feel too bad about it, though I still don't like the thought of scaring or upsetting her.

I walk straight into her building without even pausing to let myself enjoy the way it always feels when I step inside. Normally I snatch up the waiting notebook, but tonight I hesitate. I know whatever she's written on the pages is going to change things between us. Watching her last night leaves no room to doubt that. I take a deep breath and pick hers up and set mine down. Hers is heavy in my hand, as if weighed down by the words it holds … even the air around me feels heavier tonight, like the entire space where she's always felt so free and so happy is somehow hinging on what she's written and how I'll react.

A scary fucking thought if there ever was one.

But, I've come too far, _we've_ come too far for me to turn back now.

I hurry back out to my spot by my tree and wait.

I don't have to wait for long, but for the first time since I started watching her, she's in sweats and a hoodie, both black. The irony's not lost on me as I look down at my own matching clothes. I'm trying to hide; she can't hide even if she thinks she wants to.

I watch as she goes straight to the old stereo on the workbench and turns on some music. Classic rock, which somehow I know instinctively is more to remember someone than because it's what she likes to listen to. My heart hurts for her as she picks up the notebook then immediately curls into a tiny ball in the corner of the loveseat, pulling a blanket over herself so that all I can see is her face.

If I were closer, I bet I'd be able to see tears as well.

She doesn't move and neither do I until the pull to know what she's written becomes too much for me to resist. I give her one final glance and then, another first, I leave before she goes inside.

As I walk off, I wonder if she can tell.

Somehow I make it home in next to no time. In the next instant, I'm changed into basketball shorts and a wifebeater and sitting on my bed, the notebook open on my lap.

I don't even bother to turn on music; my only focus is on the words she's written.

_Hey_ _#18_ _, Creeper,_

_Sorry, I just can't use the number. Is it weird that I don't even mind not knowing your name? I mean I do, but this way, it almost makes it easier to talk to you_ _…_ _and I really need someone to talk to._

_I can't believe you gave me a pen. You're not breaking up with me are you? You remember that part in_ Say Anything _don't you, where the girl was being all stupid because of her dad and broke up with Lloyd, who was perfect for her by the way, because she thought it was the right thing to do_ _?_

_I'm rambling_ _;_ _I'm sorry. It's really odd, and somewhat comforting to know that you're out there watching me right now. What do you see? How much can you see? You don't use binoculars or anything like that do you, because I gotta tell you, Creeper, if you do, then well, that really IS creepy. I can always tell when you come inside, not just because you leave me strange though sweet presents, but it's more of a feeling. Like the way I know that you won't hurt me. Do you feel anything like that when you come in here? I think you might._

_I have a tendency to get wordy when I talk … or write in this case I suppose, so I hope you're okay with that because I'm just going to go on like I was talking to you. I do want that one day, I think so anyway. I mean, I know that what we have going on here isn't normal, but I like to look at it like we're pen pals, just writing to each other while we get to know one another - if I forget about that whole you watching me side of things. I don't watch for you. I don't look out the windows or hide behind the curtains or anything in case you were wondering, and you'd be really strange, even more strange than you are, if you didn't. It's not like I don't want to, because most of the time I really do, but for some reason I can't make myself yet._

_I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes. Can you tell that from where you watch me? I don't think it's normal for me to like the fact that you lurk in the dark as much as I do, but I can't make myself stop coming out here. I don't want to … knowing you're out there makes me feel less alone and I'm so, so fucking alone._

_Besides the two people that help out here, you're the only person I've talked to in a while, and well, we don't even exactly talk, do we? Does that make me sound pathetic? Do you feel special or does that freak you out? I probably shouldn't say so much, but I have so much … shit just swirling inside of me and it's_ _just been_ _waiting for the chance to come out._

_Please don't leave … and Jesus, that does make me sound pathetic, but at this point what do I have to lose? Everyone leaves me and I just need someone._

_You asked a while back why I come outside, why I look so sad sometimes. Are you sure you want to know, because once I tell you, I can't un-tell you, you know? So at this point you need to ask yourself if you want to go on, because there's no turning back from here. I guess I'll know your answer tomorrow night and whether or not you come back, won't I?_

There's a strange sound, seemingly from far away. Some part of my brain wonders what it is until I realize it's me. I try to catch my breath because apparently I've stopped breathing just long enough so that my vision's spotted and my head swims. I stare down at the notebook in my lap, though I can't see the words. I place my hand on the notebook; fingers spread wide so that the entire sheet of paper is almost covered completely, and take a few deep breaths.

_Oh shit_ … inhale.

_Oh fuck_ … exhale.

I want to know, I do, but my question to Jasper from this morning slinks forward, worming its way through to the forefront. Can I handle it … whatever _it_ is? It's bad. There's no way around it now.

I look down, even though I keep my hand in place to keep from seeing what's underneath. Fuck, she's so brave. And beautiful. And strong. And scared … and alone. That one rips my heart right out of my chest and smashes it to smithereens, grinding it until it's nothing but pulp and dust.

How?

Why?

The answer lies beneath my shaking hand. All I have to do is look.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**I KNOW! I'm sorry to leave this here, but trust me, okay? I didn't leave it here to be mean, you all should know me better than that, but it is done for a reason.**

***deep breath* Okay, there will be a pic tease posted later. For anyone that didn't see Laurel's message on FB in the group, the pic teases for the next few chapters might be a little out there, but they do coincide with the chapters, at least as far as an overall impression and emotions go. You can check it out on the blog:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**Thanks for reading. Thanks for sticking with me. It'll be worth it, you'll see.**

**See you tomorrow … I'll be hiding behind Laurel now …**

**Erin~**


	26. Pandora

**Disclaimer: The characters are SM's, the plot is mine.**

***sigh* You guys, I swear. I could thank you from here 'til next week, year, and it wouldn't be enough, but I will say it again because I can't say it enough. Thank you for everything. I'm not used to NOT doing review replies so I hope you all know how much I appreciate you coming back day after day.**

**We have a letter to finish and a story to learn so let's get to it …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 26 - Pandora -** _**Hercules Animated Series** _

**Once she opens the box, all the miseries will be revealed.**

Taking a deep breath and setting my shoulders as if I'm preparing for battle, I look down.

_"My mother is dying."_

I blink and tip my head up to look at the ceiling, hoping, praying, that when I look down again, the words will be different.

I look.

They're not.

I feel cold all over, but deep down inside there's this scalding, boiling sense of rage and despair at the utter unfairness of it all. I turn my head and glance out the window and fight the pull to run straight to her house and beg her to let me … do something. Anything. I don't even know the rest, but I don't need to.

I vowed to help her. A silent promise made only to myself, sure, but a promise nonetheless.

If I thought I was scared before of finding out what Bella's going through, these four words have left me paralyzed. From anger and sadness and worry over her, and dread over everything that I still have yet to find out, it's almost too much.

My heart races and my hands shake. I scoot up on my bed so that I can rest my back against the headboard … I know I'll need the support. I can feel exhaustion spreading, weighing heavy like a wet blanket, but I know it'll be a while before I'll be able to sleep.

Not at all ready, but unable to wait any longer, I begin to read again:

_This is the first time I've ever admitted it to anyone. It's as hard as I'd thought it'd be, though somewhat easier, too, honestly. I imagine that has to do with the fact that I'm writing it instead of speaking the words. If I say them, they're a part of the air around me and I can't take them back. Writing them is different. I can rip up the page, or burn it, or throw it away and pretend I didn't write them if I can't see them, but saying them out loud makes it too real._

_But she_ _ is _ _dying. A little bit more every day. She could go today, tomorrow, next week, next month, or it might be years from now. I honestly don't know which thought scares me more._

_She's not here though, not really. I should let her go, I just don't know how._

_She's not sick; she's just slowly fading away._

_I guess I should go back a bit and tell you how we got here, huh? Sorry, like I said, I ramble._

_We moved here from Phoenix … me, my mom, Ren_ _é_ _e, and my step-dad. You might know him, he's um, kind of famous I guess. Phil Dwyer? You know, the pitcher for the Seattle Mariners? I know you play s_ _occer;_ _do you play baseball, too?_ _Do you like baseball? I used to … well, before, but that's a story for another time. One thing at a time and all, you know?_

_Anyway, a little over a year ago, Mom was in an accident. Well, she collapsed in the middle of the street because of a brain aneurysm, so I guess technically it's not an accident, but I don't know what else to call it? Episode? Whatever you want to call it, it's fucked up. To make a long, painful story (that I might tell you sometime if you are still with me after this) brutally short, Mom's here … but only in body. Or at least that's what the doctors and Phil tell me. I can't make myself believe it even if I know in my heart they're probably right._

_She's been in what's called a Permanent Vegetative State since the accident, or well a few weeks after she collapsed she has been. First she was in a coma … as if that's any better, but in some ways it was. I guess it's that word 'permanent' that gets me. At this point, it's hard to say._

_I don't know, Creeper, I get so fucking angry sometimes. I mean she kissed me goodbye, told me she loved me before she left to walk to the store to get some fresh tomatoes for dinner, and that was the last time I saw my mom … as my mom._

_In the span of an hour I lost everything. The only family I had left, my sense of home, of where I belong, all of it. Gone, because of something we couldn't even prepare for._

_You asked a while back why Forks? Phil got traded to the Mariners and since I'm not eighteen yet, though I will be in a few months, he didn't want to leave me and Mom in Seattle while he's in the middle of baseball season._ _Forks, as I'm sure you well know, is quiet, so small it's almost off the map. It suits his need to keep Mom's condition out of the spotlight so to speak, and he doesn't have to worry so much about leaving me and_ _Maggie, especially with the hospital right here. The press in Phoenix was kind of crazy when it first happened. Phil was pretty popular, but since he'd played there for so long, once the initial stories were out, they gave him, and me by extension, space. Phil was worried that being new to Seattle might bring everything up again and Forks is far enough away that the press shouldn't bother us here. It's been a little over a year so it's not really a huge story anymore, but Phil thought it better to be safe than sorry._

_Mom's condition, God I hate that word because that makes it sound like it's something she can just get over, paired with Phil's um … well, he has a lot of money, make it so that we can keep her at home. I begged him actually, not to keep her in the hospital. I want to be with her as much as I can, and I want her surrounded by things she loves … her favorite faded blue blanket,_ _a_ _painting of the Arizona desert, the horrible country music that we never turn off, the ceramic coffee mug I made her when I was eight that I painted the Eiffel Tower on because she said she wanted to visit_ _Paris_ _one day._

_The doctors, Phil, the nurses Maggie and Kate, all tell me there's no hope of recovery, but I don't, I can't, believe them. I can't let her go because if I do, there's no one left. What happens to me when she's gone?_

_So, Creeper, that's why I go outside every night. I stay by her bedside and talk to her, read to her, sometimes I sing to her, because I can't believe that the vivacious, energetic, sometimes flighty woman that was my mother is just simply gone. I won't. But there are times being inside makes me feel like the walls are caving in, like I'm being buried alive. Going outside for those few hours is the only time when I feel like I can breathe._

_I was so angry at you when you came inside here that first time. I was terrified I'd lost my escape, my chance to forget, just for a little while, how close I am to being completely alone in this world. I hated you at first, I really did._

_Now look at me, spilling my darkest secrets to a stranger. But you're not really. I think you are the only person that might get me. I don't know why I feel that way, and to be honest it scares the living daylights out of me to admit it, but I'm not scared of you. And even scarier than that? I trust you._

_What are you thinking right now? I know you can see me. Sometimes I wonder if you see me better than anyone else, even myself. You certainly spend more time watching me than anyone else._

_I'm tired now, so I'm going to stop here._

_If you come back after this, we can talk some more if you'd like._

_I hope you do come back. I don't feel so alone when I know you're out there._

_Thank you for that._

_DG_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, there is Bella's story, at least in part. There is still more, but poor Edward can only handle so much at one time. I'm sure you all have more questions, but I do hope you feel like you know her now, at least more than before. I love her, I do, and I hope you all will, too, as you find out more.**

**Next up, something a certain someone named Debbie has been begging for. I think it'll make a lot of you very happy.**

**Pic tease will be on the blog later (did the last two make sense? Laurel was brilliant in picking them out, just saying) - les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

***As far as anything medically related goes, we DID lots of research, but we're not perfect, so please keep that in mind. This is a work of fiction and while I try to keep things as realistic as possible, I do bend and twist as I need to fit certain aspects like I need. Go with it, okay?**

**Thanks for reading. Thanks for sticking with me. It'll be worth it, you'll see.**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	27. Violet Parr

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot's mine.**

**You guys make me smile so big and my heart so happy, every single day. Thank you … just thank you, for everything.**

**Now, how about we hear from our girl? She's had a rough few days, be gentle with her …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 27 - Violet Parr -** _**The Incredibles** _

**Violet is very solitary and shy. Once you get her to open up, you will find that she is outspoken and stubborn with a dash of sarcastic thrown in.**

**BPOV - This coincides with Edward's Chapter 25**

I can feel him out there watching me.

Not that there's much to watch since all I'm doing is laying here, huddled under a blanket that smells like wet leaves, pine trees. If I try, or more likely if I imagine hard enough, I can smell the smoke from the fires my dad used to make when we'd go camping when I was little. I pull the blanket tighter around me and ignore the sting in the corner of my eyes when I realize there's no smoke smell at all.

How could there be? Charlie's been dead a little over seven years now, so it's just another case of wanting what I can't have.

I wonder how long he'll stay tonight.

I should play for him. I like playing for him, but I just can't tonight. There are no notes in my head, no rhythms begging to be played. All I can think about is the notebook in his hands right now and what he's going to think when he reads what I've written.

Did I make a mistake in trusting him? I wonder for the five hundred thirty-ninth time … at least. I hope I didn't. I honestly don't think I did.

I reach into the pocket of my hoodie and wrap my fingers around the sweet, silly pen he left me. I run my finger through the plume of fluff on the end, and smile slightly when it tickles. How something so ordinary can make me feel like laughing and crying at the same time, I have no idea.

The music in the background makes me smile, but it's bittersweet. The achingly familiar beat of Led Zeppelin's _Stairway to Heaven_ causes the tears I've been trying to hold in to fall, sliding down my cheeks and then down the side of my nose. The hot tracks cool from the damp night air and I pull the blanket tighter around me.

Can he hear the music? Can he see me cry?

I'm not sure, but I think the answer might be yes to the first and no to the second.

I close my eyes and let the music wash over me and try to just let go and breathe. I run my fingers through the fluff on the end of the pen and concentrate on trying to relax. My mind wanders and I can't help but smile at how upset and sincere Creeper sounded in his letter apologizing about not showing up for one night.

Not going to lie, it hurt … and it scared me how badly it did hurt. Then I got pissed at myself for being upset; then I got worried that he'd never come back and I'd never know who he was.

Of course his reason for missing is totally understandable, and he definitely did not owe me any sort of explanation and for damn sure not an apology. Apologize for what? Not spying on me? As if that even makes any sense at freaking all. The apology was sweet though, in a weird, messed-up kind of way and the pen … well, I think I love it more than the drumsticks. Not sure what that says exactly. Maybe not anything, maybe it means everything. My brain's full of too many things right now to think about it too much.

He makes me feel, and I think that's what scares me the most.

When Mom had her … accident, I just shut down for a while. My friends in Phoenix, not that I had a whole hell of a lot of them to be honest, didn't know what to say to me, which was good because I didn't want to talk about anything. Phil asked Maggie and she came to live with us because he was on the road so much. I refused to go to school, needing to be with Mom as much as possible. Phil didn't argue too much. I think it's probably because he wasn't sure exactly what to do. I'm not sure he does even now.

He tries though, he really does. I know that Phil's doing the best he can, but he's floundering just like I am. I know he cares, but his wife is laying in a hospital bed, here but not really here in this agonizing state of limbo, and now he's responsible for a child that isn't even his. What can he do?

After Dad died, it was just me and Mom for a few years, and then she met Phil. She was lucky enough to find two men that she truly loved. Mom and Phil have been married for five years … but she hasn't been _here_ for over a year. What can be expected from Phil? I love him, I do, but he's not my dad, and he doesn't try to be. Without Mom here, there's this hole, this glaring empty space that's supposed to be filled by her, by her laugh and her smile and her goofy dresses and the weird food she insists tastes better than it looks. Phil's a great guy. I'm not angry at him, but he has no idea what to do for me. That's not his fault; it's not mine either … it's just another thing in this whole screwed-up mess that just simply _is_. He does what he can, like my building. I thought it was really nice of him to build me an escape. I think he was trying to make sure I didn't sink any further by being in a small town and not knowing anyone. I can't blame him.

I'm lost, too.

Now, here we are in Forks so that Phil can give me what I want and keep Mom at home. Mags came with us from Phoenix, Phil's always traveling, and I'm all alone. Well, other than Creeper, and I'm starting to really depend on him being here.

Funny how that's happened. At first, I couldn't imagine how anyone could do what he does, just watch someone, and now … I can't imagine him not being out there.

I'd planned on just keeping to myself, getting through this last year of school, and taking care of Mom. Phil told me to take as long as I needed. I'm not ready to give up on her yet, and I don't know when I will be, if ever. How can I? I know if the situation were reversed nothing could make my mom give up on me. Nothing. I've done the research. I know people can wake up from this. All of the doctors, Maggie, Phil, tell me not to get my hopes up, but I have to believe there's a chance. Because if I don't, the alternative means that she's gone. I'm just not ready to be an orphan yet.

I thought I could get through this by myself, but once Creeper started watching and writing to me, not to mention leaving me presents, I realized how much I missed having contact with someone I could just vent to … someone to talk to me and just … _be there_.

Now there is someone … a nameless, faceless someone, who wants nothing more than to be my friend. At least that's what he says. I believe him. I'm not sure why I do, but I trust him when he says he wants to be here for me. It's not just because I want to believe him so badly, that I need to believe there's someone out there I can trust with things that make me feel like screaming at the top of my lungs or that I'm scared of. It's because he keeps coming back, night after night, when he doesn't have to. It's because I feel a sense of peace that I didn't know I was missing until he showed up, when he's out there; it's from knowing I matter to someone enough to do something as silly and sweet as giving me a ridiculous pen just to see me smile.

I really hope he comes back. I guess I need to admit to myself that he's my friend … or he will be if he comes back and doesn't run in the other direction. Please don't let him do that. I can't handle being left again. He's come back night after night, and hasn't given up on me yet, but I need to acknowledge this is different. This is me giving him something that he can use against me. What I wrote to him could be just too much for someone to have to deal with, and while I don't want him to run, I can't help but think I wouldn't blame him if he did.

I look out into the darkness, and wipe the tears from my face again.

_Please come back, Creeper._

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So … everyone raise your hands if you love Bella (and I hope it's all of you!) She's a strong thing, dealing with so much, but I think things might be a touch easier for her now, don't you?**

**Edward's up next as is the beginning of his answer back to his Drummer Girl.**

**The pic tease will be posted later, hope you're all still enjoying them!** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**Thanks for reading. Thanks for sticking with me. It'll be worth it, you'll see.**

**See you tomorrow … Let me know what you think of Bella now, I'm dying to know!**

**Erin~**


	28. Tarzan

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**You guys … you wonderful, amazing, incredible people! I love you all, so, so much. I love that you love these two sweet characters. I love that I've surprised some of you and made this story into something you weren't expecting. I love that you come back every day and allow me to share something that's been a part of me for more than two years. I have no other words but simply, thank you.**

***ANNNNDDD I want to take a second to wish my very sweet and very special girl Cecile a very Happy happy birthday! I love you sweetie, so much, and I hope you are having a fantastic birthday. You know all us Corner Girls wish we were all together to help you celebrate! Save me a piece of Carrot Cake, too, kay? Love, love you!**

**And now, let's see how Edward responds back to his Drummer Girl ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 28 - Tarzan -** _**Tarzan** _

**Tarzan is an extremely brave, loyal, and honorable character. He cares deeply about his family and friends.**

A thump on the floor and I'm stunned to realize I'm standing in front of my window. I look down in the direction the noise came from and see the notebook, splayed open, full of words that have seared themselves into my brain, taunting me.

Numb.

I can't even … I don't know how … How can I …

Dying.

Bella's mom is dying.

I run a hand through my hair and look at my reflection in the glass. I don't even know what to think when I look at myself in the context of what I know about Bella now. I do a quick inventory of my life and tick off, like hash marks, the number of times I've complained about my mom and each one feels like acid dropping onto my skin. Guilt spreads, icy tentacles that weave and burrow, slither and squeeze, until I can't breathe.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I feel sick.

I want to call my mom and tell her I love her, then immediately blanch because my mom's just a phone call away and Bella's is … fuck what the hell is she?

Words that I can't even think, let alone say, push and prod and I quickly turn from the window, unable to keep looking at my reflection for some reason. I begin to pace, leaving the wretched notebook on the floor where it lays, blaming it for the hurt Bella left indelibly sprawled across its pages. My whole body is buzzing, like it's filled with currents of electricity. I keep pacing, stomping from one side of my room to the other, then around in circles, then again with the back and forth.

I want to hit something.

I want to play my piano.

I want to call my mom and tell her I love her.

I want to give Bella her mom back.

Fuck.

I have to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to keep from falling apart. In the worst case scenarios, I never imagined any of this for Bella. The things I knew about her before make more sense, while at the same time invites more questions. My heart races as my mind begins to formulate the things I want to know so fast that my stomach rolls and lurches.

Not wanting to look at it, but having no choice I stride across my room and pick the notebook up off the floor. I crawl into the center of my bed, and fold my legs, setting the notebook in my lap. Purposely flipping the page to a blank sheet, I try to calm down enough so that I can put my thoughts into words.

Bella needs me to be strong, she deserves no less. That's enough to make me take a deep breath and let my heart say what it wants.

_Bella,_

I gasp when I see her name written in my handwriting for the first time, and let the warmth it brings me spread through my veins. It's right to use her name now; she's not some girl I watch in the dark any longer. She's real. She's suffering. And she thinks she's alone.

She's not.

Not any longer.

_What do I say? How do I begin? Do I tell you I'm sorry first, or do I thank you for trusting me enough to tell me something so painful, so personal? Do I promise you things will be okay?_

_I don't have the first damn clue, but I'm here._

_I'm not going anywhere._

_That's what I want to tell you first, what you need to believe more than anything else._

_I can't even imagine what it must be like to go through what you are. Fuck, just saying that makes me feel like an asshole. I mean, it's hard to know what to say and what will make things worse or hurt you. I never want to hurt you … not ever._

_And it's not because I feel sorry for you, but I do wish your mom was okay and that you weren't so sad all the time._

_You asked me what I can see?_

_I see you._

_I see when you're so sad and so scared that it takes every ounce of strength you have just to put one foot in front of the other and walk from your house to your building. I see you let go when you sit behind your drums and hold your drumsticks in your hands like they were just an extension of you, like they're as much a part of you as your fingers. I see when you smile … and it lights you up from the inside out._

_I see you, Bella._

_I only, always, see you._

_Sounds crazy doesn't it? I sometimes feel like I'm going out of my fucking mind, but it's in the best possible way. It makes no sense but yet it makes the most sense ever._

_And you're going through this horrible thing, and all I want to do is help you, but I don't know how. Tell me what I can do for you and I promise I'll do it … or I_ _'ll try as hard as I possibly can to help, in any way I'm able._

_My dad's a doctor, maybe he can help your mom. Or maybe he can find someone who can. Shit, that makes me sound like an asshole, again. Of course your step-dad has tried everything to help your mom. This is probably not the right time to_ _say_ _this, but … um … Phil Dwyer's your step-dad? I'm not a huge fan of baseball, too busy with soccer, but damn, even I know who he is._

_And, if Phil is your step-dad, where is your dad? Is he still back in Phoenix? I kinda don't think so. I don't know why, but I think something might have happened to him, too. Did it? I'm almost afraid to ask, but I want to help you, Bella. I want to know everything about you, even the stuff that's bad._

_Tell me what to do to help you._

_What do you need?_

_Does anyone help you? Are you alone all day? I know you said there's someone there with you named Maggie_ _._ _D_ _oes she take care of you, too? God, please tell me she does. Do you ever see Phil, or is he traveling too much because of baseball? Is that why Maggie is there, because he's not? It would kill me to think of you sitting inside all day with no one to talk to_ _…_ _besides your mom._

_I hate this for you, Bella. I really fucking do. How do you do it? I mean if it_ _were_ _me, I think I'd stay locked in my room all day. That's why you're so strong_ _;_ _you know you are, don't you? I know Phil's your step-dad and all, but how can he leave you and your mom? Doesn't he want to be there? I mean I guess I know he can't be and play ball at_ _the same time, but I don't understand how he can be away and how he can leave you alone, even if you have someone there to help with your mom._

_Isn't there any other family, anyone else to be with you so you_ _aren't_ _alone so much? And fuck, don't hate me for asking this, but is it safe for your mom to be at home and not in a hospital? How does that work? Do you need my dad to do anything for you? I'm sure he would if you need something._

_God, I'm sorry for asking so many questions, but I'm only trying to help._

_And um, yeah, about Kate. I need to tell you something. Please don't freak out, okay? I heard her talking about you at the hospital the other day_ _._ _T_ _hat's how I know your name. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. It wasn't on purpose but when she said the name Bella, I wasn't sure she was talking about you at first, well, actually, I WAS (and that's a whole other thing) but when the person she was talking to mentioned the Abbott house I knew it was you._

_Do you know that house, well your house now, is my favorite house in all of Forks? I mean I love mine, but that one, there's just something about it._ _At Halloween_ _,_ _Mr. and Mrs. Abbott always gave out the best candy and sometimes let us come inside, ju_ _st to the living room,_ _for_ _only_ _a few minutes, and at Christmas, when we were younger, they would decorate their house_ _…_ _think the Griswolds in_ Christmas Vacation _, and then have us_ _sit in the kitchen_ _for hot chocolate._

_I've always wanted to see what the whole thing look_ _s_ _like._

I yawn, loudly, and my eyes water from the fatigue setting in. The pen I'm holding slips from my fingers and I don't try to pick it up. I simply stretch my legs, ignoring the thousands of needles pricking my skin all at one time, and settle against my pillow, clutching the notebook to my chest.

It's hard to breathe for a few minutes as everything that Bella has written washes over me. Every muscle in my body seems to tighten, and I squeeze my eyes closed so tightly there are spots of white behind my eyelids. In and out, I inhale and exhale and then eventually my body relaxes.

Sleep claims me quickly, and I'm too exhausted to fight.

My last thought, right before I succumb, is of Bella … always, always, Bella and the hope that someday soon, I might actually get to see the inside of the old Abbott house.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So … there's more, but our boy is tired. This is a lot for him to deal with, but he's doing pretty good so far, yes? The rest of his letter is tomorrow as well as a wake up call, literally and figuratively, from Jasper.**

**I'm totally in love with the pic tease for tomorrow's chapter, just so you know. It's one of my favorites, hope it makes you smile: les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**Thanks for reading. Thanks for sticking with me. It'll be worth it, you'll see.**

**See you tomorrow …**

**Erin~**


	29. Archimedes

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot belongs to me.**

**It's another day and I still don't have enough words to thank you all for everything.**

**We have an important conversation and a letter to finish, so let's get right to it …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 29** **\- Archimedes -** _**The Sword in the Stone** _

**Though he is loyal to Merlin, he is not afraid to point out the Wizard's shortcomings and often does.**

I wake slowly, gingerly stretching muscles tight from being held in the same position for way too long. I keep my eyes closed, but I can tell the sun's shining due to the red behind my eyelids. It's hot in my room, and I feel like I do when I get out of shower. Testing, I crack one eye open and cringe at both the time and the so-bright-it-hurts-my-eyes sunshine.

It doesn't seem right for the sun to shine today.

My phone rings, Jasper's ringtone of _Rhinestone Cowboy_ a most unwelcome intrusion on my morning.

"Yeah?" I rasp, my throat scratchy and my voice as rough as sandpaper.

"Well aren't you just a big, old ball of warm and fuzzy this morning?" he teases, but it falls flat when there's nothing but silence on my end.

I don't mean to be an asshole, but I'm not in the mood for levity this morning.

"Edward?"

His tone is cautious and tinged with worry … and it makes me feel about an inch tall. _Fuck_. I huff, and say a brusque, "Sorry."

"No problem. Now what's wrong? Are you okay? Is it Bella?"

I still don't say anything, but I know he'll wait for me to be ready to talk. He always does. "Yes, it's Bella, and no I'm not fucking okay."

My eyes slide toward the notebook and my unfinished letter to her. With time to think … or I suppose dream since I don't even remember falling asleep and I've only been awake less than ten minutes, a ton of questions I want to ask Bella are churning in my mind.

I huff again, agitated for wasting time talking to him when I want to be talking, well writing, to Bella. It's a shitty thing to admit, but there are times when being best friends with someone as long as we've been allows you to be selfish and a prick. He's done it to me before when some crisis has come up with Alice, though I know for a damn fact he hasn't had to deal with something like this. Hell, no one I know has … and let's not even mention the fact Bella hasn't ever laid eyes on me or even knows my name.

What a fucking nightmare.

"Look, man, I gotta go. I'm not going to be at practice today, maybe not even tomorrow," I tell him.

"Edward," he says in that way, the one where I can feel his disapproval through the phone and immediately I'm pissed.

"Fuck, Jasper. I just can't, okay? It's only two days," I tell him, and patently ignore the guilt that washes over me.

He sighs, a loud, wheezing one that I'm sure is meant to convey lots of things he wants to say but smartly keeps to himself. It's not like I don't know it all already anyway.

Silence stretches. I can hear him breathing, can practically hear him thinking, and finally just explode. "Jesus Christ, Jasper. What do you want me to do? Just ignore Bella so I can go practice for a few hours. I can't. You don't know, you don't understand … she's … I just can't."

I pinch the bridge of my nose so tightly I'm sure there are indentations from my fingernails embedded in the skin. "I know I need to practice, and I will, just not today. One or two days isn't going to kill me," I tell him, and struggle to ignore the taunting smart ass voice in the back of my mind telling me _Yeah, right, jackass._

"I hope you know what you're doing, man. You've wanted this for too long to blow it now." I can hear him clear his throat and I brace myself for what's coming next. I know what he's going to say before the words even come out.

"I have to say this because I'm your best friend, even if it pisses you off. If you let this obsession, or whatever the hell you want to call it, with Bella get in the way of what you've dreamed about for almost as long as I've known you, I will kick your ass. I know she's important to you, but you hardly know her, Edward. In fact, you _don't_ know her, and she doesn't know you. You've shared a few letters or whatever, but come the fuck on. You haven't even met face to face and you're slacking on getting ready for camp, which just in case you've forgotten, is only the biggest, most important thing of your life so far. It's just … I really hope she's worth it," he trails off, and I can feel his concern and his frustration.

"She needs me, Jasper. I can't explain it any simpler than that. I know I need to get ready and I will, I promise."

"Yeah, well, I sure the fuck hope so. Your parents will be home in a few days, don't forget that. You can't keep spending all night watching her, I don't care how hot you think she is or how much you think she needs you. You have a life, and you had plans before she showed up a few weeks ago … don't forget that either."

I squeeze my eyes closed and breathe in and out a few times before I answer quietly, "I won't."

"Good. I'll tell Em about practice. If you need me, I'm here, try to remember that, okay? Emmett, too."

He hangs up before I have a chance to say anything else, though for now I've said pretty much all I have to say.

I toss my phone on my bed and turn from the notebook calling to me to finish my letter. I'm not ready yet, not with everything Jasper just told me turning around and around in my mind. I spend a few hours doing everything but not thinking about … anything. I fix some breakfast. I do some laundry. Despite what Jasper insinuated, or maybe because of it, I go for a run, in the complete opposite direction from Bella's. I have my iPod and turn it up as loud as it can go, loud enough to drown out the frenzy going on in my head. I concentrate. I listen to the rhythmic pound of my feet against the ground, the steady thump of my heart against my chest. I feel sweat pour down the side of my face and pool at the small of my back. I welcome the burn in my muscles and the spike of adrenaline that spreads with each stride.

I run until I can't go any further. By the time I'm standing under water so hot it almost feels cold, my mind is calm … focused.

Again I sit in the middle of my bed. I pick up the notebook and begin to write, letting everything I've held inside for the past few weeks out in a torrent of words.

_I'm back, but you probably couldn't tell that I ever left, huh?_

_Bella, I have to tell you that after sleeping for a bit and messing around my house and stuff, it's afternoon now in case you were wondering, knowing about your mom is just as bad now as it was when I read it the first time. I don't mean to make you upset, but damn, what a messed up thing to happen._

_You know, and God I hope this doesn't make me sound like a jackass, but when I woke up this morning … well late this morning, the first thing I wanted to do, and did, was text my mom and tell her I love her. The next thing I did … was feel horrible because you can't do the same thing. And you should be able to. The fact you can't just really sucks._

_I want to help you, be there for you … be your friend … be more to you if that's what you want._

_I know we don't know each other, but like you said, maybe we know each other better than anyone else. I sure as hell spend more time thinking about you than anyone else. I really hope that doesn't freak you out, but at this point, I think it's probably pretty clear that there's something between us. I have no freaking idea what it is, all I know is I've never felt this way about anyone before … ever. And in case you were wondering, I don't make a habit of watching girls in the middle of the night. Not until you anyway._

_It's scary as fuck and confusing, and at times I feel like I've gone insane, but then I see you and nothing else matters. I have plans and things I'm supposed to be doing and getting ready for, and I won't say that they don't matter as much as you do, because they do, but I see things differently now. I don't know exactly how that's possible, seeing as how you've never even see me (You still haven't looked out your window at all? Not once? I can't decide if that makes me happy or makes things even weirder) or talked to me or heard my voice._

_I saw you once, in the Thriftway, a few weeks back. I about shit my pants, to be honest. I wanted to talk to you so badly, but was afraid that I'd scare you._ _T_ _o make myself sound like an even bigger idiot, I was afraid of ruining whatever this is we have going on. I'm not going to lie to you anymore, not that I've lied at all just so you know, but I think we're past the point of hiding things, don't you think?_

_Bella, what do you want from me?_

_I don't want to push you, but you have to know you're driving me crazy, in a mostly good way, but absolutely crazy just the same. Can I tell you what I want? I want to be there for you because it seems like you're so alone. I want to be able to hold your hand when you get scared, and I want to give a shoulder to lean on or cry on when you're having a bad day. I want to see you smile from up close instead of from always so far away._

_I want to be whatever you need me to be._

_I know you're dealing with a lot, more than anyone should have to handle by themselves, and I can tell there's more you haven't told me. I'll be patient and not push, or I'll try to be, but you can tell me all of it. I'm not going to leave …_ _seriously_ _, where am I going to go? Forks isn't exactly a metropolis, and it's not like we won't run into each other at some point. You know that will happen sooner or later, right? Maybe not anytime in the near future, but when school starts it will for sure._

_You will still be here, won't you? Fuck, I didn't even think of that._ _I mean, Ph_ _il just got traded to the Mariners; it won't happen again, will it?_

_And … um … don't hate me but what happens to you if your mom passes away? Will Phil make you move to Seattle? I don't want you to go._

_Tell me what you need, Bella, and I'll do it. I want to, please believe me when I say that._

_I'm not running away. I'm not leaving. You can trust me, I promise._

_'Til tonight,_

_Edward_

_P.S. -_ _You can keep calling me Creeper if you want, it's kind of grown on me, but just like I want to know you, I want YOU to know ME._

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Well, he's certainly laying it all out there, isn't he? And, thank goodness for Jasper, yes? Edward needs to have someone telling him like it is that's for sure.**

**Things lighten up next chapter. *giggles* I think y'all will enjoy it!**

**Pic tease (plus one or two extras) will be posted later, be sure to check them out:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**Thanks for reading. Thanks for sticking with me. It'll be worth it, you'll see.**

**See you tomorrow … More progress to be had this week and a few changes, too!**

**Let me know what you thought of Edward's letter, I'd love to know!**

**Erin~**


	30. Mad Hatter

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**We've turned a corner for these two, can you tell? Things are moving along now. It's sweet how some of you are so worried about Edward's soccer - trust me, the boy's not THAT far gone over his Drummer Girl, just almost. As always, I have a plan, you'll see.**

**A HUGE thank you and lots of smooshy, wet kisses to my amazing, sweet friend and partner in crime prettykittyartist for writing an incredible review of Watching Her for The Lemonadestand blog! Go ... check it out!**

****www . Tehlemonadestand . net** **

**She did a wonderful job and made me feel all warm and fuzzy and stuff. I love you, J'me, you make my heart so happy and I am honored to call you my friend. BTW ... if you are not reading her fantastic story, Snapdragon, you MUST drop everything and go do it now ... shoo ... go, I mean it! It'll take your breath away, I swear it!  
**

**Anyone hungry? How about some cookies …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


  


  


**Chapter 30 -** **Mad Hatter -** _**Alice in Wonderland** _

**Come have tea and COOKIES at the tea party!**

The walk to Bella's seems very different from all the ones before it. It's not like I'm worried, not really anyway, and I'm not exactly scared, though I suppose I should be. If I had half a brain I would be, but strangely, I'm more excited than anything. I left a lot of myself, most of it in fact, in my words to her and laid everything on the table … my heart most of all.

I've never done that before, and it's pretty fucking terrifying truth be told, but it's time to see what this thing between us can be.

Now all I can do is hope that she doesn't upend the table and stomp all over the broken pieces of my heart when it shatters if that happens.

Most of me thinks she won't, that she feels what I do and is probably just as freaked out and yes, excited, too, by whatever is happening between us … but there's a small part that's pretty damn afraid that I've pushed her too far, too fast. I've been watching her for almost a month now, but she's only known about me for not quite two weeks; of course she's going to be careful. Besides, with all the uncertainty about her mom, and how much she's dealing with, I probably shouldn't even expect too much in the first place.

But I do.

I want it. I want more, but whether she does or is even in a place where she can let me in, is still up in the air. Sure, she told me about her mom, but even in my at times somewhat convoluted mind, I know that was due to her need to talk to someone … anyone. At least in part anyway. Deep down I hope it's a tiny … miniscule … part.

The bay doors are open, silver-white light from the fluorescent bulbs spilling out toward the driveway. Bella's Escalade is in its normal spot and the small gray car from before is again parked beside it. I wonder if it's Maggie's or Kate's? As I get closer to the building I can't help but glance toward the window in the bottom left of the house. I know it's Renée's, even if Bella hasn't told me. I stop and stare at it and try to put myself in Bella's place, put my mom in her mom's and I can't.

It's too hard to even think about.

The notebook in my hand brushes against my leg, and the twisty turny thing in my stomach instantly revs back to life. I hurry inside her building, as if there's an invisible thread pulling me forward. It seems like fucking forever since I've been here, though it was just last night. So much has changed since then.

Everything.

A few steps farther inside and then I stop abruptly.

"Holy shit, it smells like a damn bakery in here," I murmur, ignoring the way my mouth waters from the smell. I close my eyes and turn around in a circle, the aroma too delicious not to inhale deeply over and over again. I stop, only because I start to get dizzy and then my eyes widen in surprise and are riveted to her stool.

"Oh, no, she fucking didn't." I chuckle and shake my head in both happiness and surprise.

And, yes, she really fucking did.

There, sitting on the center of my notebook is a plate of what can only be sugar cookies judging from the concentrated scent of vanilla and butter and sugar. On top there's a piece of paper taped to the foil with the word 'Creeper' written in big, bright purple letters. The fact it's not in black marker catches me off-guard, and I can't help but wonder if there's a significance there.

I walk forward a few steps and carefully set her notebook down on top of the snare drum. I need both hands to peel back the tin foil because there's no way in hell I have enough willpower to wait to try one. God, if they taste as good as they smell …

I have to smile, not that I try to stop myself, when I see the plate and the notebook on top of a clear plastic container along with a bottle of water. Apparently, Bella wants to make sure I plan on staying a while tonight. Then I have to laugh. Holy shit, all these days later and I just now realize that not once since I've been coming to her have I ever brought along something to drink. I've never taken a leak either, and I shudder just thinking about it.

Great … now I have to pee.

Pushing that uncomfortable thought to the back of my mind because yeah, I have a few hours until I can go, I hold my breath while I carefully unwrap the plate. The smell that fills the air can only be described as orgasmic and I let out what has to be the most obscene groan to ever leave my mouth.

"Oh, hell, she's seriously trying to kill me." My voice sounds like something between a groan and a whimper.

Stacked neatly and with extreme precision, as if she'd made a house of cards that would topple with the slightest provocation, are intricately and beautifully decorated sugar cookies: treble clefs, bass clefs, eighth notes, pianos, rectangles covered with snow white frosting and Oreo black music notes painstakingly painted on them. Lemon yellow, cobalt blue, Creamsicle orange, mint green, an explosion of color that's as big a feast for my eyes as the cookies will be for my stomach. Each cookie must have taken her an hour to decorate because they're covered with lines and dots, perfectly spaced, as if each is its own masterpiece.

I've never seen anything so incredible in my life.

They look almost too good to eat.

Almost.

Gingerly, I reach out and pick up a bright orange eighth note cookie and when I take a bite, it literally melts in my mouth.

"Holy … ummpf …" I know my eyes have rolled back into my head and I can tell I've just sprayed crumbs everywhere, but fuck me sideways, I've never tasted anything so good.

I shove the rest of the thing in my mouth and lick the frosting off my fingers. Once I take a swig of water, I get down to business because my time's running out. I grab the notebook beneath the plate because I'm dying to see what she wrote. Things were, and maybe still are, up in the air after last night, but the girl did leave me cookies. That has to be good, right?

Flipping to the newest letter I burst out laughing at her first line:

_You gave me a pen, I made you cookies._

God, she's fucking perfect and gorgeous and so mine, even if she doesn't know it yet.

_You did say sugar cooki_ _es_ _are_ _your f_ _avorite, right?_

_Um … I just wanted to say, well … thank you for listening._

_And for coming back._

_Especially for coming back._

_You didn't have to, but I'm really glad you did. (Because, if you're reading this that means you did and if you didn't well, I can just rip out this page and pretend none of this happened. That would really suck, by the way)_

_I'm nervous to see what you have to say about what I told you, but I'm glad I did it. It's been a long time coming I guess._

_Is it weird for me to say I'm glad it was you I told more than anyone else?_

_I would say see you soon, but that's your line, huh?_

_Hope you like the cookies …_ _pay attention to the white ones …_

_DG_

Of course that makes me immediately look down at the white rectangle cookies.

My heart's pretty much beating at least triple-time and I kind of can't breathe. I feel warm all over, but it feels good, a lot like it does when I get into bed and realize there are sheets fresh from the dryer beneath my blankets.

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

I blink a few times, just to make sure I'm seeing what I think I am.

If I wasn't sure of what I want from Bella, I damned sure am now as I stare at the cookies.

There, painted on the white frosting, are the notes of the song she was playing … my song. Just bits and pieces, combinations, but I'd know that song anywhere. I hear it in my head often enough.

She hasn't played it again, not since that first night, but I can't help but hope that now, I'll finally get my song.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**He gave her a pen, she baked him cookies … and not just any cookies either. Did you see the pictures of them? They're on the blog if you haven't seen them yet.**

**Tomorrow's pic tease will be up later, too:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**Tomorrow's chapter was not supposed to be there, but things happen when you write and characters talk when you least expect sometimes, so enjoy a surprise I hadn't planned on. **Laurel's note: AND she made us change all the chapter numbers and the pic teases on a Sunday afternoon because the chapter needed to be moved ahead of the others! Slave driver!****

**Thanks for reading. Thanks for sticking with me. It'll be worth it, you'll see.**

**See you tomorrow … More progress to be had this week and a few changes, too!**

**Let me know what you thought of the cookies!**

**Erin~**


	31. Fairy Godmother

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot belongs to me.**

**I think you all enjoyed the cookies as much as Edward did! Want to find out what Bella was thinking while she was baking? Enjoy this little peek, there's a little something in here Debbie's been asking for (a few others have,too) so enjoy!**

**Thanks for reading and loving this story, it means the world to me!**

**Now, let's hear from Bella ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


**Chapter 31 - Fairy Godmother -** _**Cinderella** _

**The Fairy Godmother is very sweet and kind and a motherly type of person.**

"Mmmm, I love cookie baking days." Maggie smiles as she walks into the kitchen.

I concentrate on stirring the soft butter into the flour and sugar, and inhale the vanilla as I pour it. I try not to notice the eyes I can feel on me as Maggie watches, silently.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see her peer at the pile of cookie cutters beside me, taking note of the fact that some of these haven't been used before. _God, please don't let her ask me about them_ , I chant in my mind, still stirring, still avoiding.

I chance a peek at her from beneath my hair that's fallen, thankful she's moved toward the large table in the corner of the kitchen. I try to ignore the sudden bubble of bitterness clawing its way up my throat when she sits down at a table made for six … as if there will ever be a time when so many sit at one time in this house.

Stirring done, I spread some flour across the island and scoop the ball of dough out of the bowl. I roll it out, enjoying the slight burn in my arms from pressing down so hard. Maggie clears her throat, and I stop, mid-roll, and lift my head to look at her.

"Did you just feel like baking today, or is there a special reason? You know you just sent cookies up to the hospital yesterday?" Maggie accents the last word so it's more of a question than a statement.

Shit.

I should have known she'd pick up on that. I try to feign nonchalance even though inside my stomach's sort of twisting and my heart's racing.

"Ummm, no, not any special reason. Just feel like baking I guess," I mumble and look back down and watch the rolling pin as it moves back and forth across the golden cookie dough.

"Hmmm." I can tell, and she knows I can, that she doesn't believe me, but I let out a sigh of relief when she says no more.

Maggie is well aware of why I bake. The nurses, doctors, and staff at the hospital, as both she and Kate have told me numerous times, are very grateful for my somewhat odd form of therapy, since they get to reap the benefits. Growing up, my mom always used to bake sugar cookies at least a few times a week. They were my after-school snack, before bed treat, midnight craving, and every now and then they were even a breakfast substitute. There were always sugar cookies in our house. Sometimes they were plain. Sometimes covered with vanilla frosting. When Mom was feeling particularly artistic or ambitious, they'd be so beautifully decorated that they made you just stop and stare, almost too afraid to eat them. So, now, I bake sugar cookies, just so the house smells the way it used to. It's silly maybe, but it's a way for me to feel closer to my mom and to remember my dad and a time when my house was filled with love and laughter and family … not this cold, practically empty, almost silent existence that I live in now. I have a sugar cookie-scented candle in my room, one of those wickless things that's not really a candle but melted wax, that stays on almost twenty-four-seven, but it can't compare to the way fresh-baked, right out of the oven cookies smell.

So I bake.

And today, I'm making cookies for him. For my Creeper.

"Well, whatever the reason, they, as always, smell delicious. I'm sure they won't go to waste," she prods again, hoping I'll take the bait and give her more.

The urge is strong. I love Maggie, I do, and I know she worries about me. I see the way her mouth turns down and the way her eyes pinch when she looks at me sometimes. I feel her brush my hair back over my shoulder, or kiss the side of my head, choking back words she so wishes to say, but won't. I'd be lost without her. She knows this, I know this, but it doesn't negate the fact that I hate why she has to be here in the first place. She doesn't deserve the way I always hold back, but I can't help it. I know I should be, and I am, grateful for all she's done for me and for my mom and Phil … the woman's given up over a year of her life to take care of us, but the sad reality is I wish I'd never met her. It's ugly and hateful to think and it makes me want to throw up to admit it, but it's true. I want to not have to know her at all, because that would mean my mom isn't lying in a bed, here, but not really here.

I feel like such an ungrateful brat sometimes.

So, I'm making cookies, because if he comes back tonight, it will mean I have one person, someone out there, that's just for me.

"Okay, then, sweetie, I'll leave you to it. I need to go take a shower." She reaches across the island and briefly touches the back of my hand and I see her eyes glance at the notebook that's never far from my side. She's noticed its sudden appearance and the way I carry it everywhere with me, but I know she thinks it's probably some sort of journal … God, I hope so, at least.

I wait until I can't hear her footsteps any longer and then I blow out a long, tension-relieving breath. Alone with my thoughts again, I press the cookie cutters into the flattened dough and carefully lift them from the island and place them on the cookie sheets. Setting the timer on the oven, I close the door with a sigh and smile when I think of what Creeper's face will look like when he sees the cookies.

For a brief moment I contemplate watching for him tonight, just so I can see it for myself, but shake my head. What if he doesn't come back? I couldn't bear to stand at the window, watching, waiting … hoping, and have him not show up.

I sit down on a stool because my knees have suddenly given out. I feel nauseous just thinking about him not coming back. I grab the notebook, flipping it open, so I can read his sweet words and feel close to him.

I skim over the very first few letters and I have to smile just a bit at them. Looking back on it, he must've been ready to have a heart attack the very first time he walked into my building. Now I can appreciate how scared he was, but how determined, too … and how thankful I am he took that first step.

My fingers trace over his words and I turn a few more pages, stopping so I can reread a few of my favorite comments from him.

_Drummer Girl,_

No matter how many times I see this written, it never fails to make my heart stutter step in my chest.

_Okay, since you answered my questions … and chimichangas? Truly? (You_ _'_ _re definitely going to have to explain that one day) I guess it's only fair to answer the same ones myself. Um, favorite food_ _._ _I could be predictable and say pizza, which I'm a guy, so of course I love it, but really, if I had to only pick one it would be peanut butter and bananas. I could eat that every meal, every day, I swear I could. Well, probably not really, but you know what I mean._

_Your favorite color is red_ _;_ _mine's blue._

_My mom taught me how to play the piano, but I taught myself how to play the guitar. I used to hate piano lessons. I'd always much rather be outside playing soccer with my friends, but I couldn't imagine my life without music in it now. I love soccer, don't get me wrong, and I hope to play professionally, maybe, someday, but music will always be a part of me. Do you feel that way about the drums?_

_I have to say it'd be really fucking tragic if you ever stopped playing._

The boy does love to watch me play, no doubt about it. I can't say I mind it, either. Now that we've established this pattern we have, and now that we're … whatever we are … I find myself wanting - needing - to play for him.

I flip a few pages ahead and sigh. He's so sweet, in an almost uncanny way, and it should scare me, I think, but it most definitely doesn't.

_Drummer Girl,_

_You looked … ah hell, you looked so pretty tonight._

_God, I sound like such a tool saying that, but it's the fucking truth. And tease …_ _man_ _you sure know how to tease a guy. Not that I mind, so please don't you dare stop._

Someone's Watching Me _, huh? Nice touch, I liked it._

_Did I tell you, you looked pretty and happy and well, just all around amazing tonight_ _?_

_What happened? Was it something good? Is it totally douchey of me to say I hope it had to do with me, maybe just a little bit?_

_Thank God you can't see me right now, that's all I'm saying._

_Christ, you drive me crazy …_

_#18_

And … cue more sighs, because really, how can I not?

A few more pages ahead and I look over his letter from his birthday, the second time he apologized, which was needed less than the first time. Admittedly, when I walked outside and saw that there wasn't a different notebook waiting on my stool, I was frozen in place. My stomach roiled and I clamped a hand over my mouth, the sense of hurt and aching loneliness that erupted was enough to make me feel sick. I started to move, to walk toward the trees beside my building to see if I could find him, because the thought of him not being out there scared me to fucking death. I hated that and irrationally I hated him, for all of thirty seconds, for making me feel that way. Of course I didn't hate him, but I did miss him. I can feel when he's out there now, and I could definitely tell when he wasn't.

It's still a little scary to think about what that means, because I know he won't always be here. I know his parents are coming home soon, he hasn't said exactly when yet, but this whatever it is, can't go on this way indefinitely.

Not sure how I feel about that yet. It's only been a few weeks and already I can't imagine not having him out there.

I recall my words to him, saying pretty much that exact same thing, because even though he didn't show up that night, I still wrote to him. I have to now. It's addicting, it's cathartic, and I hope we don't ever stop doing it. I can tell him things in our notebooks I'd never, ever be able to say out loud, not even over the phone, and I know for a fact I'd never be as open, at least not this quickly, or let myself be so vulnerable, face to face. But his words, they move me. They urge me to poke at wounds, long since scabbed over, and expose them to the elements, or more specifically _him_. The thing that's most terrifying? I want him to know me. I try not to want it so badly, but I can't help it.

He might have mentioned it first, but almost from the very beginning I felt something. A pull. A presence. A sense of peace and warmth and comfort that I've never felt with anyone but him. It's wonderful and scary and it makes me want things I'm not sure I should, but I can't help wanting anyway.

_Drummer Girl,_

_No matter what you say, I still feel like shit for not showing up_ _the other_ _night. I didn't mean to not come to you, and I didn't mean to scare you or upset you. No matter what you tell me, I know I did because if it_ _were_ _me, I'd feel the same way._

_Isn't it strange how we've never been face to face, never spoken a word to each other, but yet, you are the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before falling asleep. Yes, I'm aware that might have something to do with the fact that by the time I make it home and fall into bed, I've just spent hours watching you, memorizing everything about you, but it's still true nonetheless._

_What did you write tonight? You looked so sad, so lost and alone and afraid. What scares you so badly? What secrets have you kept inside for so long that it took you hours to write them all down? I know you were talking to me, and not just because you were writing in our notebook either. I could feel it from all the way where I watch you._

_I wanted to go to you, a whole fucking lot. It almost, no not almost, it DID hurt watching you for so long sit there and write._

_I hope I'm strong enough to help you, because I know whatever took you so long to write down has to be something bad._

I stare at his letter again, even though I think I've read it at least fifteen times since he left it. Once again, I'm torn between being petrified of him and the need to just give in to whatever force is pulling us together. I've told him already that he probably knows me better than anyone. He's never spoken to me, but he sees so much. It's only a matter of time before he knows everything about me.

The timer goes off on the oven, startling me, and I set the notebook down. As I lift the cookies from the sheet and onto the cooling racks I think about what I want to say to him.

He gave me a pen, I'm giving him cookies … and when I see the rectangles, an idea forms and I smile.

I'll also give him some of me, too.

I hope it's enough.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**I love them both, I really, really do! Okay, tomorrow we're back to our regularly scheduled programming so Edward's up … and oh my, so is Emmett! EEEK!**

**Still enjoying the pic teases? Laurel giggled making tomorrow's, just saying. It'll be up later:** **les-16 . blogspot . com or find us on Facebook: www(.)facebook(.)com / groups / 137144056381565 / You can always find me on Twitter: les_sh_16**

**Thanks for reading. Thanks for sticking with me. It'll be worth it, you'll see.**

**See you tomorrow … More progress to be had this week and a few changes, too!**

**Let me know what you thought of Bella this time - slowly but surely she's getting there, can you tell?**

**Erin~**


	32. Little John

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot**

**So glad to see you all liked getting to see inside Bella's head a bit. She's something else, isn't she?**

**Thanks for all the love and support. You guys amaze me every single day.**

**Now, let's see what the boys are up to …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


**Chapter 32 - Little John -** _**Robin Hood** _

**Little John appears to be more cautious than Robin Hood and often reminds his friend of potential consequences of his plans. He is loyal, jovial, strong, and big-hearted.**

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Emmett says as he looks me right in the eyes. He holds up his left hand, fingers curled into a fist. "You saw some girl drive through town one day and couldn't stop thinking about her." Up goes the index finger. "You went for a run because you couldn't sleep, heard something, went to see what it was, and stumbled across her playing the drums at two in the fucking morning." Next the middle finger; that one is accompanied by a smirk. "You kept going back, every night, same time, same place to watch her … like just stand there in the dark and watch?" He quirks an eyebrow and waits, not saying a word and his eyes never leave mine until I nod. He lifts his ring finger. "You bought her drumsticks, left a note, and started some notebook switching thing as your only means of communication because somehow walking up to the girl and I don't know, introducing yourself, just wouldn't be right."

Jasper snorts, enjoying my discomfort way too fucking much and I glare at him. He's sitting across the table from me, his arms crossed over his chest, and a gleam in his eye. Asshole. If I can figure out a way to do it, I'm so making him pay for this.

Yeah, yeah, it's all my own fault, but still.

Emmett clears his throat and lifts the pinky finger, wiggling it to be a jackass. "You skip practice, go without sleep, skulk around the hospital, don't tell your best friends what's going on until you get drunk on your birthday and spill the beans. You miss a night of watching her, and somehow that's the equivalent of the Apocalypse and this causes you to go into a full blown panic." He shakes his head at me and then turns to look at Jasper who simply raises one shoulder, like he has no idea either.

The thumb is last, sticking straight out. "And lastly, you finally have some information, which you won't and say you can't tell us, yet you somehow have a container of the most fuckawesome cookies I've ever seen in my life from the mystery drummer girl, Bella … yes I peeked when I was in your room yesterday … and now you're sporting the biggest fucking smile I've ever seen from you, like you should be shooting rainbows and shit out of your ass or something." He holds all five fingers up, waving it back and forth. "Does that about cover it?"

I fold my arms on the table in front of me and lower my head. "More or less," I mumble, though I know they both can hear me.

I keep my head down until he flicks me on top of the head. "Ow, fucker," I snarl when I jerk my head up.

He's goading me on purpose, I know he is, and yes, I deserve it, but the dude has fingers made of cement. I swear he does.

"More … or less?"

I sigh and sit up, slouching against the booth on my side of the table. "That covers just about everything."

None of us say anything for a few minutes and I look around the diner. The usual non-crowd is here; just a few tables are occupied. Sue, our normal waitress, comes by the table and drops off refills of all our drinks and with a look to make sure we don't need anything else, she leaves us alone again.

"Ed, man, I don't know whether to give you a high-five or kick your sorry ass. You know this whole thing is totally … I want to say fucked-up but it's not that, it's just … I've never … just damn." He finally huffs and presses his lips closed together.

We've been here almost two hours, and I'm actually pretty surprised he's run out of things to say. He had plenty when we started, most of it wasn't too nice to be honest, but I took it because I knew it was wrong to have kept him in the dark for so long. Jasper has always let me work things out in my own time and go to him when I'm ready. Em not so much … but that's only because he lives his life in the moment, and jumps well before he thinks.

He always has.

"Uh … what are you going to do when your mom and dad come home? They'll be here in only a couple of days, right? There's no way you can keep up your peeping activities until we leave for camp," Emmett states bluntly.

I sigh. It's not a topic that I'm particularly fond of thinking about.

I glance out the window and fidget with the napkin, tearing pieces off and rolling them between my fingers. "I don't know. I know I can't not see Bella, so I guess maybe I'll try to go when Dad's working nights. That should be a few times a week," I trail off, hating the thought already.

"Edward," Emmett says softly, or softly for him.

I raise both of my hands and shake my head. "I know, all right? I fucking know. Something's gotta give, but I have to give Bella time. You guys have no idea what she's going through. None. I know none of this makes any God damned sense, but it is what it is. I like to watch her. She likes me to watch. We talk, we just do it by pen and paper instead of over the phone or on the computer."

"Or face to face," Jasper interjects with a pointed look.

My shoulders sag because as much as I want to argue with him, I can't. "Or face to face," I agree reluctantly.

I turn and stare out the window, not seeing anything, but unable to look at them any longer. "She knows me, in a way no one else does, and I know things about her she's never told anyone else. There's something between us, and I know it doesn't make any sense to you two, but it does to me. I also know that had we met under different circumstances, this, whatever it is," I say with a wave of my hand, "wouldn't be the same. I don't know how I know, I just do. Do I want her to know what I look like? Sure I do. Do I want to be able to be closer to her than fifty feet? Of course. Do I want to introduce her to you guys and to Alice and Rose and hang out and go to the beach and to the movies? Hell yes, but she can't do that. Not right now, maybe not for a long time."

I take a deep breath and then turn back toward them, thinking about her letter at home … the one I still have to reply to. Last night when I dropped off my notebook with my letter inside thanking her for my, as Emmett verbosely just described, fuckawesome cookies, and picked up hers, I honestly had never been so scared in my life. Watching her play last night couldn't even ease the huge knot that made it hard to breathe. Every few seconds I'd glance down at the notebook in my hand, the one that has answers and replies back to all the things I'd asked and I had a hard fucking time deciding if I just wanted to hurry home so I could read, or put off knowing as long as possible.

I opted for waiting, because, well, Bella's fucking hot when she plays and I like watching.

"I have to be patient, which is frustrating and really fucking hard sometimes, but Bella's worth it. I feel it; I know it. I'm sorry for keeping you two in the dark for so long, I just didn't know what to tell you. I mean, it _is_ nuts and crazy and makes no sense, but it's working … for now at least. I have no idea what's going to happen when Mom and Dad get home, and I really don't know what to do when I leave for camp, but I'll deal with it when it comes. Maybe Bella will let me call her or text her. I don't know, but I do know she needs me and I need to be there for her. I _will_ be there for her." The last word is said in barely more than a whisper.

There's an awkward silence for a few minutes as the weight of what I've just said settles over the table, but when Emmett gets a text, the tension's broken and we all get up.

After we pay the check, we walk outside. I know they both want to say something, but they don't need to. I know it, they know it, so I wave goodbye and get in my car to head home, thinking of Bella the whole way.

I wasn't sure what I wanted to say back to her, but after talking to Emmett and Jasper, words are screaming to get out.

I hurry. I have lots to say.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, I love Emmett … hope you do, too. And our Edward, he's trying so, so hard. Back to letter writing next time. Bella's turn, have you missed it?**

**There will be a pic tease like always later today, you know where to look, and where to find me.**

**If you didn't see the message on the blog and the FB page, I'm not going to be posting this weekend, no Saturday and Sunday updates. I'll be back on schedule on Monday, though, for sure.**

**Thanks for reading, thanks for loving, and thanks for believing.**

**See you tomorrow!**


	33. Snow White

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot is mine.**

**Every day I get a little more amazed and every day I love you all a little more.**

**Let's see what Bella has to say shall we?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 33** \- **Snow White -** _ **Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs**_

**Snow White was very loved by her father. She is kind, sweet, and gentle.**

The entire ride home, all the way up the stairs and into my room, I think about the conversation I've just had with Emmett and Jasper. It's not like I haven't thought about it all before, but somehow, like Bella mentioned in her letter, saying things out loud is a hell of a lot different than thinking them to yourself or writing them down on paper.

I drop my soccer bag on the floor and kick my shoes off. Lifting my arm, I sniff and decide a shower's definitely in order before I get down to business. By the time I'm done and dressed in clothes that don't smell like ass, I grab the notebook and a pen and for a change of pace, take it downstairs and out the front door. The afternoon's dark, charcoal gray storm clouds have moved in and there's a rumble of thunder off in the distance. It's not raining yet, but it will be soon. The wind's picked up just enough to swirl a few leaves and make them skitter along the front porch and to make the air smell wet and like pine trees.

It's a perfect day to spend alone.

I've never really thought of myself as an introvert, and I suppose in the literal sense I'm not. I mean, I love hanging out with Jasper and Emmett, and with Alice and Rose, too. I don't even mind larger groups, but I definitely prefer quiet time over anything loud. I go to parties and stuff because I like seeing my friends and because, well it's Forks, and there aren't a whole lot of options, but I never stay long and I never mind when I'm the first one to go home.

I think Bella and I might have that in common. The thought makes me smile and inordinately happy.

Turning, I move toward the large wicker chair in the corner and settle down in it so I can read her letter and get moving on my own back to her.

_Dear Edward,_

_Gah, did it feel strange to you when you wrote my name the first time? Because, I have to tell you, my hand's shaking like crazy right now and my heart feels like it does after I get done playing a set … ready to fly out of my chest._

_Edward, huh?_

_Not at all what I imagined, I have to be honest, but somehow, I think it's absolutely perfect for you._

I snort, again, and wonder, again, what names she'd imagined. Not sure I'll ever tell her what I came up with for her. I shudder just thinking about it.

_You asked me a lot of questions, but I'm going to answer the ones I had prepared myself for and save the others for later. Some of them were unexpected to say the least. Not unwelcome, at all, just so you know, but ones I hadn't really thought about. Wished for maybe, probably, but definitely not expected. Am I rambling again? I am, aren't I? Don't laugh at me. Thanks to you I'm staring at your handwriting, which again, I think rather suits your name as weird as that is to say, and it's making my knee bounce up and down and hands shake a bit … and I know my handwriting isn't nice enough that I can afford for it to be any messier than normal._

_Bet you think so, too, don't you? You have to tell me, you know, especially in light of your proclamation that we won't hide things from each other. In that whole spirit, um … can I tell you that I'm a teensy bit freaked out that you've actually seen me up close and personal like. Well, I guess it couldn't have been too close since I don't remember seeing anyone in the store that day and_

Here she's marked out a few words, scribbled over them in swirls of ink until I can't tell what she's written. It doesn't matter though, and I laugh, because well, my girl's adorable if not a little bit crazy.

_Crap, I just called you out on being honest and not hiding anything and there I go marking stuff out. Not fair I suppose, is it? Okay, the reason I know I don't remember you being there is because when you come here, inside my building, I can always tell. I know you come inside, of course I do, but I can feel it. It's like there's this, I don't even know what to call it, a presence maybe, that you leave behind. It's nice. I like it. It makes me feel safe and … well, I think that's what I was so afraid of the night of your birthday … not feeling like that again._

I sigh and rub my fingertips across my chest and over my heart. The one that's expanded and stretched and is full of nothing but her. Jesus, what this girl does to me.

_Anyway, back to answering your questions. First, I guess I'll start with my dad. His name was Charlie and he died when I was 10. Well, he didn't die, he was killed in the line of duty. He was a police officer in Phoenix and was out on patrol one night and got sent to a domestic disturbance call. He and his partner walked in on some high as hell guy waving a gun around at his wife and two little kids, threatening to kill them and then himself. When one of the kids, a little girl who was three, started crying and wet_ _her pants from being so scared, the guy lost it even more and pointed his gun at the kid, and my dad … well, my dad jumped in front of the mom and the kids, and pushed them out of the way right as the guy fired his gun._ _Dad_ _was wearing a bulletproof vest, but he got shot in the leg, in the femoral artery. They tried to save him, but he didn't even make it to the hospital before he died._

_It took me a long time to even understand what had happened to him. A part of me still doesn't. He was my whole world, my hero. I loved, love, my mom, but my dad was everything to me. We were so happy, that I remember. My mom didn't really like him being a policeman, I remember that, too, but I also remember him talking to me about what he did one day when I was about nine and telling me how it was what he was meant to do, to help people._

_He was this larger than life man with arms that felt like steel and hands and fingers that were scarred and gnarled, but were as gentle as a feather when covering up my many cuts and scrapes with Band-Aids. Looking back on it, I suppose he was intimidating, but I never thought that. He was a big guy. He had a mustache and he always smelled like coffee and Old Spice and butterscotch … they were his favorite candy and he always had some in his pocket. Whenever we would play hide and seek, I could always find him because the cellophane crinkled in his pockets when he would walk. I never told him that, but I think he probably knew._

_He worked a lot, but I don't remember thinking that because when he was off, our days were full. Arizona Diamondback baseball games, camping in the desert, tea parties in my room, basketball in our driveway, long walks that included a stop for ice cream. When he didn't work, my mom used that time to do whatever new hobby she'd found_ _:_ _water aerobics, pottery class, learning how to speak Japanese. You name it, she's tried it._

_We vacationed in the mountains and took long trips to California to go to Disneyland ... at least a few times a year. Bet you're wondering about all my shirts, aren't you? Disney was this magical place for me. I've never believed in fairy tales or in princes that slay dragons and rescue damsels from towers, but there was something about walking into that place with my mom and dad that made me feel like I'd stepped into this whole other world. I know that's the point of the place, but at six or eight or ten, all you see is colors and hear sounds, and smell things that shouldn't be possible but are. I remember never being happier than when we were at Disney. The t-shirts started with our very first visit when I was five and just took off from there. Every birthday, every Christmas, every visit and sometimes just because, I got a new shirt. Sometimes they'd have a picture of my favorite character at the time, sometimes it was because a new movie came out, or an old one that was released on DVD_ _._ _S_ _ometimes it_ _was because my dad liked the picture on the front. It didn't matter; all that mattered was they came from him and were our special thing._

_I have every shirt I've ever gotten from him, even the ones that are threadbare and the pictures have faded so much you can hardly tell what's on them. But they're a part of him and I can't let them go. My mom kept up what he started, I think because she has never stopped loving my dad. She loves Phil, don't get me wrong, and until her accident, they were very, very happy, but my dad was her one great love._ _When she and Phil g_ _ot married five years ago, I didn't really understand how that could be possible, but now I know how lucky she is to have loved and been loved in return by two great men._

_So, at night, when I talk to mom, I think and remember and talk about my dad or what I'm afraid of, or a memory that's been on my mind a lot. I use the shirts as my way to remember and connect and feel close to him and to her, and to never forget what it was like to be a family, to know where I belonged and that I'd always have two people who would always love me. It's probably strange and might not make sense, but it helps. Luckily for me, Dad bought me plenty of shirts that I could use as night shirts and I haven't grown very much since he died so I have some that still fit. The ones that don't far outweigh the ones that do, and when the time comes that there aren't any left, I have no idea what I'll do._

_Silly, huh?_

_Don't answer that … no wait, do. Once I knew you were out there watching me, I wondered what you would think of the shirts. I only wear them when I go outside, and only at night. P_ _laying makes me feel closer to my dad since he was the one that taught me. I play for me though, and now I suppose I play for you, too._

_You asked me what I wanted? I'm not sure besides the fact that I don't want to come outside and_ _ not _ _see a notebook and not feel you out there watching me. I don't know how it happened, but I need you. You make me feel safe and like I matter. I didn't know how much I lacked that until you showed up._

_I don't know how to label you, but do I have to? For now, I think I'll just keep you as my Creeper, how's that?_

_Sometime, someday soon, we're going to have to take the next step and meet face to face. As much as that terrifies me, I can't wait for it to happen either, but is it wrong for me to say that this, what we have right now, I don't want it to end? I don't know if it's possible to have them both, but if it's okay, can we keep doing this?_

_If I haven't said it already, I'm glad you found me. I didn't know how lost I was until you._

_See you soon … or I guess you'll see ME soon,_

_Bella_

_P.S. - I haven't decided if I like using Drummer Girl or Bella better. I'll let you know when I figure it out. Which do you like better?_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, Laurel thinks Bella glows in this chapter, what do you think? She's opening up and feeling and expressing herself … all things she's definitely not done enough of in the past. Edward's response is up next.**

**There will be a pic tease as always later, I hope it makes you smile, it's supposed to, especially in conjunction with what Edward says back to Bella. You can always find me on Twitter and FB, too, if you want some hints or something … just saying.**

**One more chapter this week, I think it's a good place to leave you. Lots of things coming up, lots of things I think will surprise you as well.**

**Thanks for reading and taking this journey with me. It's so much better to share with you all than to keep it to myself, so thanks for letting me!**


	34. Prince Eric

**Disclaimer: The characters might belong to SM, but the plot's all mine.**

**YAY! Can I tell you how much Laurel and I smiled from all of your reviews? Apparently she wasn't the only one that thought our Bella glowed like a firefly's butt? So glad to get the t-shirt explanation to you all, too. No big mystery to them, not that I think many of you felt they were to begin with, just another piece that makes our Drummer Girl who she is.**

**Now onto Edward, he's um … a little wordy this time, but can you really blame him?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 34** **\- Prince Eric -** _**The Little Mermaid** _

**He wants to kiss the girl …**

"Holy hell." I chuckle, but only because there's every possibility if I don't laugh I'll start crying.

I stare down at her words and trace her name with my fingertip, sighing at myself for acting like such a sap. I swear, if I were feeling any mushier, I'd be a dollop of marshmallow fluff.

Not that I care, at least not too much, because no one but me knows that I'm about three seconds away from jumping up and down and yelling, "she likes me, she really likes me," at the top of my lungs.

I want to wallow in this feeling I have right now, like I want to just roll around and let it soak into my skin, but the need to write her back is even stronger. I take a few deep breaths and as I do, I focus on the other parts of her letter, especially the part about her dad. Fuck, how much should one person have to deal with? She's so much stronger than I ever even thought she was. I wonder if she truly understands that.

A crack of thunder makes me jump in the chair, and when I see lightning zigzag across the sky, I figure it's time to go inside. The air's heavy; the storm that's coming is going to be a doozy … I just hope it passes by the time I need to go to Bella's. Nothing will stop me from going, especially tonight, but I'd rather not trudge through mud and get soaked if I don't have to.

After a healthy meal of frozen burritos, Doritos, and a Coke, which I eat standing up, I get comfortable on a stool at the island in the kitchen. Lightning continues to flash, thunder continues to rumble, but it barely registers.

I open the notebook fully, her letter on the left, a blank sheet of paper on the right. Glancing down, I see her name, written in her handwriting and shiver at the chills that sends racing up my spine. Putting pen to paper, I begin to write …

_Bella,_

_Yeah, you'll always be Drummer Girl, but there's something about being able to call you, or well write, your name that I can't quite get enough of. I suppose that might come from weeks of not knowing your name. Glad to hear you like Edward, wait, you haven't exactly said you liked it, did you, just that it fit me. Is that a good or bad thing?_

_I can't tell you how sorry I am about what happened to your dad. He sounds like he was a great man, and it's obvious you still miss him a lot. I miss my dad and he's only been gone a few weeks_ _;_ _I can't even wrap my head around him all of a sudden not being here … and you've had to do it twice. How do you do it? I know I've asked you that already, and I don't mean to ask you questions I know will make you upset, but I really want to know. Do you have any idea how amazing I think you are?_

_By the way, thanks for bringing up the t-shirts. I was going out of my mind trying to figure them out. Now that you've explained them though, they do make perfect sense … even the ones you've worn for me. Can I tell you that I um … well, I think that's probably one of the coolest_ _things that I've ever seen. Knowing, now, that those shirts came from your dad or even your mom, and that you thought of me specifically when you put it on, it's just, yeah, pretty fucking great. You were talking to me and I didn't even know it. I felt it though, I did._

_And in case you can't tell, I absolutely do NOT think it's silly to wear them or use them to feel close to your dad. Bella, he's your dad, he always will be, even if he's not here anymore. I hate it that you have to be without him. It hurts if you want to know the fucking truth, and it makes me hurt … for you. You lost y_ _our dad,_ _and now with all of this happening with your mom_ _, an_ _d Phil_ _._ _Y_ _ou haven't said a lot about him and your relationship with him, but I can tell, or I think I can, that though you care about him a lot, he's not exactly giving you what you need._

A loud crack of lightning zips from the sky and the wind and rain pelt the sliding glass door that leads from the living room out to the deck. I drum my fingers on the notebook, the thump, thump slow and steady. After a few moments I realize what I'm doing - tapping out the notes of my song. Jesus, I wish she'd play it for me again.

Soon, I hope, really fucking soon.

Speaking of soon …

_Bella, do you ever think about what it'll be like when we see each other for the first time? Does it make you scared to picture it, or does it make you excited … and not in a dirty way either, but in that 'your stomach rises then drops like it does when you go on a roller coaster' way. I've imagined_ _it_ _ a lot _ _and I really can't fucking wait, but I like what's going on right now, too. I can talk to you in a way that I've never been able to talk to_ _anyone else, not even my best friends, Jasper and Emmett, or my other friends, Alice and Rose. You can stop right there. Ali and Rose are madly in love with Jasper and Emmett, and I've known them almost all my life. There are times they all annoy the hell out of me, and honestly, I feel out of place because they each have someone, but it's been that way for so long (they've all been together so long I can hardly remember a time when they weren't) I've had plenty of time to get used to it. Doesn't mean it's not hard to deal with sometimes, and it doesn't mean I don't wonder if I'll ever have the same thing._

_I want you to meet them, when you're ready. They'll all like you, don't worry about that. Alice and Rose will probably want you to hang out and do whatever girl stuff they do, paint their toenails and watch movies on Lifetime or some shit. Jasper and Emmett will probably ask you a million questions about Phil and if you know anyone else famous (do you?), but they'll all like you. I know they will._

_No one knows about your mom or Phil or your dad_ _;_ _I haven't told anyone, I promise. I hate that you're so alone, but I also want to keep you to myself. Does that make me sound like a selfish asshole? God, I hope not, but do you understand what I'm trying to say? I want you to have friends and be able to hang out with us and go to the movies and the football games (not that they're anything to write home about, but it's something to do) but I want to be the one you do those things with._

_Please don't get freaked out by that. I'm honestly not trying to push you or anything like that, but damn, Bella, you have to know what you do to me. I want to kiss you, like really kiss you. It's all I think about sometimes, when I'm not thinking about what you look like when you play, which is really fucking hot by the way. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. It's not just because I feel sorry for you about what's happened to your mom and dad, though I hate it for you._

_It's just you._

_I'd probably never, ever, be able to come right out and say this to you face to face, so maybe we can keep up writing for a little longer, or forever, or at least until I don't feel like a total tool for just blurting that out, but we promised not to hide things from each other, so there ya go. Probably not exactly what you had in mind, was it?_

_Okay, I'm going now. I think I need to go throw up or something …_

_I'll see you later,_

_Edward_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So who's singing along with Sebastian and whispering in Edward's ear to just kiss her already? That song's been stuck in my head for a week!**

**Okay, these two have had some heavy duty talks and taken some giant leaps forward, haven't they? The parents come home next week, are you ready? We meet Rose, too, and there are some big things happening.**

**Don't forget there won't be updates this weekend, but I'll be back on Monday and we'll have a pic tease (and maybe a little teaser) up on Sunday night to get you ready.**

**Have a great weekend! Leave me some love, I'll miss you guys!**

**Erin~**


	35. Minnie Mouse

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Hello all! Welcome back! LOL, like 2 days is a long time, huh? Hope everyone had a great weekend. We've got a big week for these two coming up, are you ready?**

**Let's get right to it ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 35** **-** **Minnie Mouse** **-** _**Mickey Mouse Club** _

**Minnie is sweet, loving, and innocent. She loves to have fun and is very thoughtful and sensitive.**

The lights flicker, causing me to jump and the pen I'm holding to fall from my fingers. It bounces on the floor before rolling beneath my stool. The storm's picked up. Angry thunder crashes and rumbles. Lightning cracks, making the air full of electricity, so much so the hair on my arms stands on end and causes a shiver that shakes my entire body. A quick glance at the clock lets me know there's still a few hours until I have to leave for Bella's. Plenty of time for the storm to pass and for the skies to clear.

I grab the notebook, make a mental note to pick up the pen later, and take a can of Coke from the fridge before I head upstairs. The lights flicker once more as I enter my room. I set the Coke down on the nightstand and toss the notebook on my bed so that I can set the alarm on my phone.

No fucking way am I missing going to Bella's if the electricity goes out and with it my alarm clock.

I drain the Coke, then flop down on my bed, tired but positive I won't be able to sleep. I just want to close my eyes and let my mind drift for a bit. I think about camp first, worrying that I won't be ready … worrying that I am and how hard some of the decisions I might have to make soon truly will be. I think about my parents coming home in a few days and how weird it will be to have answer to them again. It's not like I've been on a thirty day bender or anything, but over the past month, I haven't had to tell one person where I'm going or when I'll be back. I've been able to eat ice cream on the sofa, straight out of the carton, wearing nothing but my boxers with UFC on the TV. Not gonna lie, I've enjoyed the hell out of that.

I can feel my muscles relax, loosening to the consistency of limp noodles. I'm almost floating, in that state between consciousness and sleep where things are hazy and dreamy. I see Bella's face, hear her soft, somewhat raspy laugh. I feel her fingertips, warm and featherlight as they dance up the inside of my thighs and over my stomach, feel the gentle scrape of her fingernails through the light trail of hair beneath my navel and then up over my abs and along my ribcage.

I raise my hips trying to find something, anything, to relieve the hard ache between my legs and am met with nothing but a quiet, knowing, giggle. Silky soft strands of hair brush across my chest, followed by a warm, wet tongue that swirls and flicks at one ultra-sensitive nipple then the next.

"Oh fuck, baby. Jesus Christ, that feels so good." I groan, lifting my hips again.

I hear the rustle of clothes, feel the shift of the bed. "Open your eyes," she whispers against my ear.

I look up and there's nothing but her. Gorgeous and so close and all mine. She straddles my hips and she's just warm, wet heat against my hard, straining, leaking cock. Her hips roll and I hiss. "Bella," I beg. For more, for her, for something, anything.

She leans down, her lips ghost across mine and I can taste her. Sugar cookies and vanilla icing. "You said you wanted to kiss me, Edward, so do it. Kiss me. Show me. Taste me."

And it's like a flip is switched. Tongues and grunts and nibbles of bottom lips and pants and I kiss her like my life depends on it. Hard and bruising, then so slow and so deep it makes my toes curl. We kiss until I see stars, until I'm a panting, writhing mess beneath her … until my dick is so hard it feels like it's made of titanium or something.

Kissing turns to touching, pinching, rubbing. Touching turns into stroking, circling, thrusting and then there's nothing but slick and hot and coiling and then exploding.

Slowly, I fight my way through the fog and the muddled mess in my brain to find my shorts pushed down to my thighs, my fingers wrapped around my semi-hard dick and my stomach covered in jizz.

My orgasm felt so damned good I can't even get grossed out about the cooling spunk … at least not too much.

Showered, dressed - complete with cologne and watch, but no hat, no beanie either, and with the notebook in hand, I'm on my way. The instant I step outside I second guess the no beanie, but I'm in too big of a hurry to go back inside and get one. The night air is heavy and damp, the ground drenched and oozing. I'm definitely going to need to wash my shoes when I get home; Mom will kill me if she sees them caked with mud. Not to mention that might bring up questions I'd rather not answer.

According the phone call I got from Mom earlier, she and Dad will be home in two days. I miss them, but damn I don't know what I'm going to do when they come back. I'm almost positive Dad will have something to do with Bella's mom's care. Being the head of the hospital means that's kind of a given, and knowing my mom, she'll be arranging for meals and visits and all kinds of stuff for Bella. I'm not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, Bella needs all the help she can get, no one should have to deal with all she has to by herself, but on the other hand, she wants to … she needs to. It's her mom, the last bit of family that's hers. She's told me that both sets of her grandparents are dead and her parents were both only children so after Renée is gone, there's no one left, except for Phil, and he's not family, not really.

I know once my parents get home, things are definitely going to change. When I stop to think about it, it's kind of weird that I haven't really heard anyone talking about Bella or the new people that moved into the Abbott house or anything like that, but I suppose it's not really all that odd. It's summer, people are coming and going on vacation and without Dad here to talk about hospital stuff, I don't hear any of that. Not to mention … I've been a little preoccupied with practice and Bella. Mostly, pretty much just … Bella.

Once everyone is hanging around town more, people will start talking. They always do. What worries me is I won't be here when they do.

I sigh. Camp really couldn't come at worse fucking time.

Switching those thoughts off because there's nothing I can do about them, I focus on wondering what Bella's next letter is going to say. It gets a little confusing holding two conversations at the same time, but when I think about it, it makes me smile. She's opened up so much, like she was just waiting for the tiniest crack in the floodgates so she could just let everything out.

And let it out she has.

She's so open and honest, but she's funny and poignant and deep, and holy hell can the girl tease? Ever since the night with the black hoodie, it's like she glows as freaking cheesy as that is to say, though it's nothing but the truth. Every night she walks outside she looks a little freer, a little lighter, and a whole hell of a lot happier. Oh, she still has moments, sometimes even most of the time she's outside, when she looks like she might break and it takes all I have not to go to her.

It's hard, really fucking hard, to keep hidden in the dark, but she's asked for time. So, as much as I want to go to her, and Christ Almighty, the pull takes my breath away sometimes, if my girl wants time, I'll give her all she needs.

I'll wait.

As long as it takes for her to be ready.

There are times when it doesn't seem fair, I guess, that I'm the one doing most of the work, or it feels like it anyway, in this friendship, relationship … thing we've got going on. Then I think about how much she's had to deal with, the heartbreak and the pain and the guilt and I realize who the hell cares? If she needs me to put myself out there, I will.

Obviously.

I snort when I look down at the notebook in my hand and shake my head at my idiotic self. _Jesus, I'm such a fool for this girl_ , I think as I walk in her building. I pout, just a little bit and in a totally selfish way, at the fact there isn't another plate of cookies left. Who cares that I still have at least half a dozen left? She's totally created a monster because fuck if her cookies aren't to die for.

A quick glance around and things don't look any different even though they feel that way. I trade out the notebooks and flip hers open real quick only because I can be impatient at times, especially where Bella's concerned. I laugh a little bit, the girl does ramble, but fuck if it's not adorable and sweet and just another thing about her that drives me crazy in the best of all possible ways.

Every night the temptation to stay just a few more minutes gets stronger and stronger. Tonight's no different, but I have a feeling Bella's going to play again, and that's something I can't ever get enough of. I lay my hand over the notebook I've left for her, feeling a little bit stupid for feeling like I'm leaving something, a piece of me, of my heart for her … again.

I hurry to my spot by my tree, wishing not for the first time that there was a chair waiting for me. _Maybe I'll bring one_ , I think, then roll my eyes. What the fuck am I thinking … next I'll be planning on popcorn and a Coke like I'm here to see a show or some shit.

I don't have time to make any more plans because I see the door open. My breath hitches like it always does as soon as she steps outside. Fuck, she's so hot. I grin. I don't even try to stop it when I see the t-shirt for the night. It's light blue and on the front there's a picture of Minnie Mouse. I wonder if that makes me Mickey? Shit, how whack is it that I hope I am Mickey Mouse. Her hair is up in a high ponytail allowing my eyes to have ample skin to salivate over. Who the hell ever knew necks could be so damned sexy? Personally, I think it's just hers.

But her legs though, damn her legs. They're just pale and perfect and I shake my head to keep my mind from going to a place it always wants to go, but really shouldn't … at least not at the rate I can't seem to help.

She glances in my direction and smiles, a soft, happy smile that makes me feel hot and cold all at the same time. The urge to just move, to step out of the dark and into the light, into her light, is so strong and I let out a sound that's really fucking close to a whimper.

Soon. I hope it'll be soon. I don't know how or when or where, but I do know we can't keep going the way we have been for much longer. I'll be ready, that I do know for sure. When she is, when the time is right, it'll be fucking perfect.

She skips down the steps, her hair swishing across her back. The slight bunching of her shoulders that was present in the beginning is gone now. She moves confidently, knowing there's no way in hell I won't be here. Like usual, she holds my notebook for a few precious moments, seconds I try to curb my jealousy for the one thing that brings me closer to her.

With a gentle toss, it lands on the loveseat and I feel my body begin to hum with electricity when she takes her seat behind her drums.

She spins the sticks and cocks her head to the side and I watch a sexy smile spread across her face.

"Talk to me, baby," I urge and close my eyes when she begins to play.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So we start off with a bang and end with swooning, hope that's a good way to begin the week with these two.**

**Pic tease, as always, will be up later, make sure to take a look.**

**Thanks to my girls for all the help thus far, you've all been so amazing, I don't have words to thank you enough. I love you all!**

**And thanks to each of you for sticking with me. I appreciate all the love and support more than I can say!**

**Missed you all this weekend. Let me know what you thought, okay?**

**Til tomorrow …**


	36. Mufasa

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot is mine.**

**Well now, seems everyone enjoyed the way we started this week! Love it! And love each and every one of you for sticking with me thus far! As I've said, I promise it will all be worth it in the end! Trust me, okay?**

**Now, who wants to meet Carlisle and Esme?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 36** **– Mufasa –** _**The Lion King** _

**Mufasa loves his son. He is wise, caring, and gives the best advice.**

"Ed, man, please tell me we can swim at your house today? Or at least sit in the hot tub?" Emmett grunts as he throws himself back on the ground. His chest's heaving and I swear he's the color of a tomato, which isn't unsurprising really - we've had a hell of a workout. We've been at it for hours now. If I didn't know better, I might think it's payback for ditching them a few days back, but it's not. We just had a really good practice.

I needed it, too.

I chug my water and then pour a little down the back of my neck. The cold water feels fucking incredible as it slithers its way down my back … until it reaches my ass, then it doesn't feel quite so good. I shift a little and try to ignore the way my boxers are now stuck to parts that they shouldn't be and nod at Emmett.

"Sure."

Emmett lifts his arm from his eyes and thankfully he's back his normal non-tomato-looking self. "When are your parents going to be home?"

I throw my now empty bottle in the direction of my bag and lean back on my elbows. "Not sure. Mom said sometime this afternoon."

It'll be nice to have them home, but I can't help but wish that Mom would get a sudden whim and want to stay in Seattle a few extra days for some shopping or something. Of course they have been gone a month so I know they're ready to come home. I think back to saying goodbye to them when they left and thinking that thirty days seemed like a hell of a long time, but that was before Bella.

"You ready?" Jasper asks. He's typing a text, to Alice I'm sure, and his head's down, but I answer him before he can look up.

"Fuck no, but I don't have much choice do I?" I huff and then it's me throwing my head back on the grass.

I stare up at the sky, temporarily blinded until a bank of cottony white clouds slides in front of the sun. Finally able to focus, though it doesn't matter because all I can see is Bella, I continue to look up. There's a tightness in my chest, one that not even three hours of sweat and pushing myself to the point of exhaustion beneath a scorching sun has been able to alleviate.

Tonight, for the first time, I won't see Bella.

And fuck if it doesn't suck and make me want to claw at my skin and make me feel way too many things at one time. Annoyed at my parents for coming home. Irrationally pissed off at myself for feeling so pathetic. Worried that somehow something will happen and Bella might need me and I won't be there.

I feel like I'm going out of my mind. I used some of that nervous energy and cleaned the house from top to bottom yesterday afternoon. I even went to the Thriftway and bought some groceries … including a bunch of some kind of flowers that I thought Mom would like and a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream because it's Dad's favorite. I vacuumed and dusted and mopped the floor in the kitchen … changed the sheets on my parents' bed … anything to keep my mind off of not seeing Bella tonight. I didn't do the toilets though, that's just, yeah, Mom can do those.

It's scary as hell, feeling like I'm going to fall apart, just from the mere thought of not seeing her for one night. What the hell am I going to do about not seeing her for weeks?

"Did you guys get the email from Coach about camp?" Jasper asks, finally done with his text conversation with Alice.

He never says anything, slightly inebriated whining aside, but I know he misses her. She's been gone since a few days after school got out and she won't be back until a week before we leave for camp. Luckily for Emmett, Rose is coming back in a few days for the Fourth of July, so he'll be able to spend a few weeks with her before we go.

"Yeah, I did. Who's driving to the scrimmage on Saturday?" Emmett asks and looks from me to Jasper.

I groan. A three hour car ride, a two hour game, probably at least an hour long strategy/training session with coach after we're done, a stop to eat, then a three hour trip back to Forks … yeah, not exactly looking forward to that. The scrimmage, sure, because I've missed playing, but the rest, not so much.

But, if I drive, I can make sure we get the hell out of there and back home, closer to Bella. I drive faster than Emmett, so I say, "I'll drive; one of you can take the next one." With camp just a little over three weeks away, we'll be spending a lot of time on the road and in Seattle.

The email from Coach didn't say too much, just making sure everyone was practicing on their own and what we should be working on until we all see each other at the scrimmage. Em, Jasper, and I are the only three on our team not from Seattle and Portland, which is both good and bad. It's good in that we can ride together, and we've been playing together so long that we know what one another is going to do almost before it happens. It's also bad in that it sort of makes us a little bit of a anomaly on the team because the rest of the team is a hodgepodge of guys from all over.

Camp should definitely be interesting to say the least.

We swim and mess around in the pool for a bit and that's followed by a long soak in the hot tub. The guys and I are half napping half relaxing in the chaises that line the pool when I hear Dad say, "Such rough lives for ones so young, don't you think, dear?"

I crack an eye open to see my dad smiling widely at me. I roll my eyes but hop up, and go to hug him before he stops me with hand on my chest. "Son, I love you and it's damn good to see you, but I'm not ruining a fine piece of clothing with greasy sunscreen. Nice tan by the way." He smirks, glancing pointedly at my now very pink chest.

"Ha ha ha, we all can't look like Tex over there," I snap and tip my chin toward Jasper and his golden brown tan … not that I look too closely.

"Well I don't care about my shirt, and really, Carlisle, that shirt doesn't exactly scream high fashion, no matter what you say. Now, come here, sweetheart, and kiss your mother. I haven't seen you in forever!" Mom opens her arms and I don't even hesitate before I let her wrap her arms around me, and do the same in return.

Immediately, I'm overwhelmed by everything that's always been my mom but I've never really paid attention to. Her tiny hands that are deceptively strong. Her eyes which are exactly like mine, the way she always smells like peaches, but I've never seen her eat one … the scar on the bottom of her chin that I've seen every day of forever but have never asked how she got it. All the things I've taken for granted for so long … and all the things Bella will never have again with her own mom.

"I love you, Mom," I whisper, and squeeze my eyes closed to try to ward off the tears that sting the corners of my eyes.

I hear Dad messing with Em and Jasper and I hang onto my mom for a few extra minutes, long enough to subtly, I hope, swipe beneath my eyes and to take a few deep breaths.

When I loosen my arms, she steps back and tilts her head to the side. I know she's trying to figure out what's going on. She's Mom; she knows things.

"Hmmmm, well we'll finish this later." She waves between us and then pats me on the chest before turning to Emmett and Jasper.

After hugs and kisses for both of them, which oddly enough leaves each sort of stunned, she smiles sweetly and says, "Lovely to see you both. You can help Edward unload the car."

Once they pick their chins up off the floor and shake the cobwebs loose, we head out to the car and bring in all the luggage, and I do mean all. I know they were gone for thirty days, but holy crap. Mom must have gone crazy on a shopping trip with Carmen or something.

A lot of grunting and groaning and then everything's inside. Emmett and Jasper have left after more kisses on cheeks and promises of dinner soon, and then it's just me and my parents.

Mom sighs. "Well, as much as I would love to shower, I better run to the store and get some food for dinner," she says as she stands by the front door.

"Um, I've already gone. I thought maybe steaks, baked potatoes, and maybe some salad for dinner? I just bought the bagged salad, but I knew you guys would be tired from traveling."

Dad places a hand on my shoulder and I turn to look at him. "Great idea, son. How about I fire up the grill and we'll eat on the deck. Steaks sound delicious. Eleazar and Carmen eat nothing but fish and chicken," he grumbles and starts to walk off toward the sliding glass doors but stops and turns around. "You didn't happen to pick up dessert while you were at the store, did you?"

I chuckle and then try to keep a straight face, but he looks so disappointed at the prospect of nothing sweet after dinner I put him out of his misery. "Mint chocolate chip ice cream, just for you, Dad."

He nods and smirks. "I knew there was a reason I loved you."

I go shower and change and find him out on the deck flipping the steaks, when I go back downstairs.

"Mmmm, that smells so good." I moan as I slouch down in a patio chair.

He sets down the tongs and takes a seat beside me, mirroring my position by stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his arms over his chest. "It sure does. So, anything new going on?" he asks after a moment. "How's practice going? Are you ready for camp?"

Anything new … I laugh silently. If he only knew.

I shrug and look at him a few seconds before I nod slowly. "I guess. There's still a few weeks left, so I have time to work on what I need to before it's time to go. Oh, I have to go to Seattle Saturday for a scrimmage and strategy session. I told the guys I'd drive this time, if that's okay, and one of them can do the next."

"That's fine, just be careful. Make sure you get the oil and tires checked first," he answers. "I wish I could go watch, but I know I'm going to have to be at the hospital."

"We'll have quite a few scrimmages set up to play before we go to Oregon, I'm sure, so you and Mom can come to the next one."

He nods absently and then he stares at me, studying, almost searching it feels like, and I wait for him to say whatever's on his mind. It's been a while since he and I have really talked; I'm surprised to realize how much I've missed it.

He holds my gaze for an extra moment or two before his eyes sort of wander to a spot over my shoulder and out toward the swimming pool, the backyard, and then the forest beyond that. "You know, the first few days we were gone your mother was so worried about you. Worrying that you wouldn't eat, or eat nothing but junk food. That you'd have an accident and no one would be here to help you. That her house would be destroyed by wild parties or that the swimming pool would be full of beer cans or that the water would be green." I snort, and he rolls his eyes indulgently at Mom. "She's a mom, it's her job to worry, but I knew you'd be fine."

He takes a deep breath and then looks me in the eyes once more. "You're eighteen now, almost a grown man. Sure, you're still a teenager and you're prone to overindulging when given the opportunity." He chuckles and waves off the shocked look on my face like he's swatting away a fly. "You and your friends aren't anywhere near as sneaky as you think you are, son. The point is, you are an exceptional person, Edward, and I'm not saying that just because you're my son and I love you, I'm saying it because it's true. You have so much going for you: soccer, your music, college, opportunities to travel the world playing a sport you love, but it's a lot of pressure, too. I just want you to know that your mother and I will be here to support and love you and help you in any way we can. You have a lot of very important decisions to make in the near future, ones that will more than likely affect the rest of your life."

I suck in a sharp breath and he reaches out to place his hand on my shoulder again. It's heavy, but gentle and reassuring at the same time, the perfect representation of everything that is my father. Strong and sturdy, but giving and full of so much love for his family, friends, employees, and patients, it's a wonder he doesn't have a halo shining over his head. I'm struck immediately with just how much he's influenced me, guided me, sometimes with words, sometimes with actions, and how he's never, not once, not been here when I needed him.

My life's been pretty easy, in fact really fucking easy to be blunt. No family drama, no sicknesses or accidents or tragedies. The worst thing being when Mom's car slid off the road a few winters ago and she broke her leg and was in a cast for eight weeks. Like I said, easy. My parents adore each other, almost to the point of it being embarrassing. I have good friends … even Mike Newton … to hang out with on the weekends. I have a huge house complete with a swimming pool and flat screen televisions, a car of my own to drive. I don't want for anything; I have more than most, and I know it.

But those are things, and as I've learned from watching Bella, things can't ever, ever, replace people. Bella has a building full of things, but she doesn't have a dad, or really even a mom, and a step-dad who, while he loves her and cares about her, can't or won't be what she needs. She has a huge house, a car most would die for, and all she wants is a mom to tell her secrets to and a dad to kiss her and tell her everything will be better when she's sad or scared.

She'll never have either.

I don't say anything, the lump in my throat too big to even swallow around let alone force words out of, not that I can form any at this point anyway.

Dad must take my silence to mean I'm thinking and he quietly gets up, leans over to kiss the top of my head, and goes inside, presumably to go find Mom, but more than likely to leave me alone to think about what he's said.

I do.

But the only thing I can concentrate on, the one thing I keep coming back to time and time again is how in the hell do I follow my dreams, when now my dreams include Bella, too?

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Oh, our boy is really starting to feel it all now, isn't he? He is going to need to have his head on straight, that's for sure.**

**Be sure to check the blog this week, lots of great pic teases all week to share with you all.**

**Thanks for reading, thanks for loving, and thanks for believing.**

**Hope you enjoyed this one, it was fun to write!**

**Til tomorrow …**


	37. Cinderella

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot belongs to me.**

**So we've got the parents home, now we'll see how our favorite Drummer Girl handles the night alone.**

**Bella's up, let's see what's on her mind …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 37 -** **Cinderella -** _**Cinderella** _

**After the Ball, Cinderella is missing her Prince … hoping for him to return to her.**

I turn my head to the side and huff when it's only been two minutes since I looked the last time.

Bright red numbers taunt me.

1:21

Thirty-nine more minutes. My skin feels like it's covered with thousands of tiny ants. It makes me want to squirm and kick my legs, but instead I stare at the ceiling, knowing nothing but going outside will relieve the anxiousness coursing through me.

For the first time since Edward showed up, I'm not looking forward to walking out the door and into my building. Oh, I need the escape, that hasn't changed, in fact that sense of urgency seems to grow stronger every day, but tonight … he won't be there. I don't even know how to feel about it either.

I continue to look up, watching the ceiling fan spin almost silently around and around, the steady clank clank as it vibrates back and forth the only sound in the room save for my breathing. Normally I'd have my iPod on, ear buds in, but tonight, I don't want to listen to music. I just want to think … though I'll have more time than I'd like to do just that tonight.

I turn my head, and grunt when only five minutes have passed, but I'm so fidgety I can't stay still a moment longer. Sliding my feet into flip-flops, I grab a hoodie, the notebook and my pen, and slip out of my room. I stop at Mom's door, listening as always, though nothing's any different than before.

The thought is at once comforting and devastating. No change means things stay the same … and no change means nothing stops this endless cycle.

"Love you, Mom," I whisper, knowing that she can't hear me, but hoping that somehow, someway she can still feel it. I kiss the tips of my fingers and brush them across the dark, wooden door before hurrying down the hallway and out the side door.

The second I step outside, it feels different.

I kind of hate it.

Actually, I really hate it.

A lot.

I take a few deep breaths, waiting, hoping that the pull toward Edward settles over me. When there's nothing but a tepid breeze and only the sound of an owl hooting off in the distance, I know he's not out there. Damn it. Still, as I walk inside my building, slower than normal, I can't help but look at my stool, willing a notebook to magically appear.

"Well shit," I mutter when it doesn't and toss my own on the loveseat.

I turn around in a circle, taking a silent inventory. My eyes skirt over my car. I know I'm definitely not in the mood to work on that tonight. Phil will be here in a little less than a week, and he's already mentioned taking a look at it and seeing what else needs to be done, so I'll just save it for then. I could read a book, but I don't really feel like it. _To Kill a Mockingbird_ still lays across the arm from when I was out here before, but Scout and Atticus just aren't doing it for me tonight. I sigh when my gaze rests on my drums. Any other night the urge to play is strong, sometimes the need is so great it's all I can do to not crumple like a balloon that's lost all of its air, but it's not there tonight. His song is on the periphery of my thoughts, and I hear a few notes and combinations, but then they fade away.

It's coming along though … _Edward's song_.

It was never supposed to be for him, at least it wasn't until he made it his with those drumsticks. It was just something swimming around in my head, but now, it's become his. And for the first time, I've put words to the music. I have no idea what it will be when it's done, only that I want it to be good for him. Secretly, I want to play it with him … but I have no idea, not even a hint of one, of how to even bring something like that up.

I mean really, what do I say? "Hey, Edward, you know that song you heard me play and the one that I sort of, kind of, a little bit, showed you on cookies of all things? Well, I really want to play it with you. Oh, and by the way, I also might have possibly put some words to the music, too. Hope that doesn't sound too crazy."

I miss him.

Right now, in this moment, I miss feeling his eyes on me.

Gotta hand it to the guy though. I giggle a little bit and run my finger around the edge of a cymbal, smiling wider when it shimmies and vibrates, he's definitely not shy about speaking his mind. I turn and see my notebook where I tossed it on the loveseat, and suddenly the only thing I want to do is talk to him. He might not be here, but I know he wants to be.

He was more than a little frantic in his last letter, letting me know when his parents were coming home. It was weird and a tad disconcerting to read him go on and on about trying to come to me when his dad's working at the hospital and arranging which days might work out best, like we're secret lovers planning a rendezvous or something. Um … hello? We haven't even met face to face yet. I could run into him in the store and I wouldn't know him from Adam. Well, that's not entirely true because I know with the utmost certainty that if we were ever within an arm's distance of each other, hell probably even farther than that seeing as how he watches me from at least fifty feet away, that I'd know him anywhere.

I sigh and curl up in the corner pulling the blanket around my shoulders. I open the notebook and trail my fingertips across the paper. I look at our letters next to each other and I can't help but smile a little bit. Our handwriting is so completely different. His is neat, precise, with perfectly spaced letters and words and mine is well … not. Such opposites. I can only hope that the saying of 'opposites attract' is true.

My index finger traces over his words and my heart does this weird thing where it stutter steps and then goes really fast. _I want to kiss you, like really kiss you_. I sigh. He wants to kiss me. And I want him to, I want it so badly. Just reading the words again and feeling things - foreign and exciting and confusing and a little scary - has me half out of my mind and half wanting to curl up beneath my blanket and hide. I have no idea what to do with everything I'm feeling, and I wish so, so much that Mom could talk to me.

I need her so much.

It's times like this that make me so angry and then so afraid and then feel so alone. I have to close my eyes and wrap my arms around my stomach, rocking back and forth until the crushing pain in my chest subsides, leaving the ache that's a constant presence.

I look out into the night, and I can hear the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze. It's so quiet, and though I'm out here alone, the crinkle of the paper in my lap reminds me that I'm not, not anymore.

Picking up my pen, I begin to write:

_Hey, Edward,_

_You're not here tonight and I can feel it. It's like there's this whole invisible thing that's_ _missing a_ _nd I never even knew what it was until it was here and now it's gone._

_It's not really a thing though, it's you._

_I miss you._

_It's kind of hard to admit that. Well, I suppose it's not since I didn't have any trouble writing the words down, but that's only because I want to tell you everything. It's a little scary how easy that seems to be. I almost feel like I tell you too much._

_Can there be such a thing? I worry sometimes that all of this might be too strange or too heavy or just plain not worth it to you and then you'll leave and I'll be alone again. But you've promised me you'll stay and I believe you. You've been here every night when you didn't have to be and I think, like you've said, we won't hide things from each other._

_What are you doing tonight? Were your parents happy to see you? I'm sure they were; a month is a long time._

I wince a little at that and fight back the bile that burns my throat … not to mention the sudden flare of intense, vibrant green jealousy. Of all people to be jealous of, Edward is most certainly not deserving of it, but I can't help it. He was without his parents for a month, and I've been … well, it's been a lot longer for me.

_I know you're worried about what will happen now that they're back, but we both knew it was coming. I smiled a little bit at all your planning and scheming_ _…_ _are you trying to make me into some dirty little secret? I keep hearing that song in my head, you know? I knew, I know, you can't come every night, though I've gotten so used to you being out there that it's weird that you're not … and I really don't even want to think about what that says about me. I mean, how normal is it that I like to be watched? Is it worse to be the watcher or the watchee? And this time, I really don't want you to answer me._

_Phil's coming in a few days, have I told you that yet? (BTW … it gets a little confusing carrying on two different conversations, please tell me you lose track every now and then, too!) I'm nervous about him coming for some reason. It'll be really nice to see him. I do miss him, and I do love him, though it's hard at times. Not hard to love him, because he really is a great guy, and he's not just a guy, but he's not my dad either, you know? It's just a really messed up kind of situation. He's got a daughter to take care of that's not his and his wife's here but not here. I know it's easier for him to be away from us. He's already made his peace and said his goodbyes to Mom … I just can't do it yet._

_Are you getting nervous about ODP camp? You are_ _;_ _I can tell by the tone of your words. Is that weird, that I can feel it when I read your letter? I have to tell you, I'm really looking forward to the day I can say I knew you when, because I have no doubt you'll do great. Will you tell me some more about it so I can feel kind of like I'm sharing it with you? It would be nice to have something to be a part of._

I yawn and feel my body relax and I know I should go inside. I don't really want to, being outside makes me feel closer to Edward, even if he's not here.

_Edward, I hope you're enjoying your time with your parents. You need to, every day. Trust me, I know._

_But is it wrong of me to say I can't wait until you come back?_

_Bella_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, she misses him, who thinks he's missing her just as much? And oh, ye of little faith in our boy. Did you all honestly think he wouldn't tell her he couldn't go to her? Pffft …**

**Still with me on the pic teases? I thought Mufasa was pretty apt, how about you? There'll be one up later on the blog.**

**I keep saying this, but I mean it every time. Trust me, okay? I have a plan and I'm sticking to it, but I swear, I promise, it'll be worth it in the end. Just believe me that it's all going the way it's supposed to, all right? Vague I know, but you'll see.**

**Who's ready for Rose? She makes an appearance tomorrow, and I can't wait.**

**Til then …**


	38. Daisy Duck

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters but I own the plot.**

**I just cannot with all the love and support, thank you seems like so little to say when you all give me so much.**

**Who's ready to meet Rose?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 38 - Daisy** **Duck -** _**Mickey Mouse Club** _

**Daisy is a beautiful diva, but she cares about others fiercely, and can be very emotional.**

"Holy shit, can you two knock that off for more than like thirty damn seconds? Some of us are trying to eat here, you know? Jesus, you guys act like Rose has been gone for a year instead of a month," Jasper grumbles and then takes an angry bite out his cheeseburger, fooling no one.

When Ali comes home in a couple of weeks, they'll be exactly the same way.

I hear a giggle from across the table and Emmett gives me a lopsided smirk and an obnoxious waggle of his eyebrows. I amend my previous thought. No one's as bad as Em and Rose.

"Em, stop it." She giggles again, in a totally un-Rose-like fashion.

"But, baby," he whines and it's so pathetic-sounding that when Jasper looks at me, wide-eyed and like he can't decide whether to laugh or throw up, I make the decision for him. I start laughing, which causes Jasper to do the same thing.

I have no idea how long we laugh, but by the time I've caught my breath, my side hurts and I can feel tears rolling down my face.

Our parents look over at us, and we all just shrug our shoulders. Dad waits an extra beat before turning to say something to Mr. Whitlock. As always, my parents are having a 4th of July barbecue before the fireworks later. We've had a party every year for as long as I can remember. A few of his colleagues from the hospital are here, the nurses he's especially fond of, Jasper's, Emmett's, and Rose's parents and some of the other upstanding citizens of Forks are all in attendance. The guys from the soccer team are here, Angela, Jessica, and Lauren, and a few others … like usual there are people everywhere.

Of course the one person I want to be here – _isn't_.

Damn it.

I poke at my food, suddenly not very hungry though there is little in the world that I love more than my dad's famous grilled hamburgers - peanut butter and banana notwithstanding. He swears he puts a secret combination in the meat that makes them taste so good … really it's just seasoned salt and some barbecue sauce. Mom told me a few summers ago; he still doesn't know I know the secret. My thoughts, as always, go to Bella though, and I wonder how her day is with Phil. It's weird, like really, really fucking weird to think that a famous MLB pitcher, one of the most famous ones around, is only a few miles away from me, and no one knows it.

I've heard my mom and dad whispering a few times, in the kitchen before dinner, in the morning over coffee before he goes to the hospital, sitting outside on the deck at night, and I swear I've heard Bella's name more than once. I know I've heard Kate's name, too. It's really only a matter of time before word starts to spread about who Bella is and what's happened to her. I'm still really fucking sure I'm going to hate it when it does, mostly because that means Bella won't be just mine anymore. It's a shit thing to admit, and pretty much makes me sound like a selfish prick, but I can't help it.

I want Bella to be just mine.

Only.

I flinch when something wet and slimy hits my arm. I scowl across the table at Emmett who's trying to look innocent, which only makes him look like an idiot. A guilty idiot at that.

"Dude, what the hell?" I snap and use a napkin to wipe the ketchup-covered pickle slice off my arm that he flung at me.

He sort of braces himself for me to flick it back at him, which I'm sorely tempted to do, and because he's waiting for it, I just drop the mess onto my plate. Paybacks are a bitch, especially when you don't when they're coming.

Emmett grins. He thinks he'll be able to tell when I'll get him back. He won't. Jackass.

"I've been asking you the same question for three minutes and you haven't heard a word I've said. Too much Bella on the brain?" he teases, but suddenly everyone at the table freezes.

Thank goodness it's just Rose, Emmett, Jasper, and me at the table or else he wouldn't need to worry about paybacks because I'd kill him right this fucking second.

"Emmett," I hiss and look around to make sure no one's heard him.

"Man," Jasper mumbles and shakes his head.

I take a deep breath and look at Rose, who is still holding a forkful of potato salad in front of her halfway up to her mouth. She lets the fork fall to her plate with a plop and stares at me, completely ignoring the splatter of potato that lands on her arm.

"Who the hell is Bella and why do you look like you've just sucked on a lemon?" she asks and pins me with her blue eyes … which at the moment resemble glaciers, all hard and glinty, rather than the summer sky on a cloudless day.

Shit.

Emmett mutters a soft "fuck" under his breath and there's an awkward silence that settles over the table, unwelcome like ants at a picnic.

Thankfully, I have asked Bella if it is okay to talk to Jasper, Emmett, Alice, and Rose about her and about what's going on with her mom for this explicit reason. Emmett's not exactly known for being able to keep a secret … of any kind … ever. Besides, they're my best friends and they love me. I know Jasper and Emmett are still worried about me and being able to focus on camp like I'm supposed to, though I think they've eased up on that a bit over the last week since Bella and I have pretty much gotten everything out into the open. I can feel the difference and I know they can see it, too.

I'm still worried about her and her visit with Phil. I'm still terrified something will happen to her mom while I'm at camp and there won't be any way for me to help her if she needs me. I'm excited and nervous and really fucking anxious to just be with her, in whatever way she wants, but knowing she feels the same way helps … a little.

A brief, albeit intense, thought glides through my mind as I remember what her letter said _\- I think about you kissing me, too._ Quickly I imagine what her lips will feel like pressed against mine, what it will feel like to slide her fingers between my own and whether or not her skin tastes like warm sugar cookies, because I'm positive she smells like them. I feel a heavy pressure between my legs that makes my bathing suit feel uncomfortably tight. Shifting, I reach beneath the table and adjust, not as unobtrusively as I hoped when I look up and see the three of them staring at me.

"See, Bella on the brain." Emmett smirks again and ducks when I throw a handful of chips at his head.

"Someone better tell me what's going on," Rose states in that tone that makes me cringe and causes the hair on the back of neck to stand on end.

I glance around the yard real quick. Mike, Eric, and the rest of the guys are playing grab ass in the pool. Jessica, Angela, and a few of the other girls are giggling and trying to act like they're pissed they keep getting splashed while they sit on the edge of the pool, and all the parents and other guests are eating and talking. I wave Rose, Jasper, and Emmett closer, figuring it's best to get this all out at one time.

So, I start from the beginning, adding a few details I didn't elaborate on with either Jasper or Emmett. Rose is quiet at first, but looks at me like I'm a lunatic. The further along I go, the more her look changes from incredulous to something along the lines of surprise tinged with a hint of worry. When I get to the part about my birthday and missing a night, she scowls on Bella's behalf, which makes me want to smile, but when I tell her about the pen and my apology, she pats my hand proudly.

I take a deep breath. My voice lowers as I tell them about what it was like to watch Bella write for hours, and how I knew whatever it was she was telling me was something painful and something that she's kept inside for far too long. Rose's eyes soften and she covers my hand with hers and squeezes.

"It's bad?" she asks quietly.

I nod and then look at each in turn, steeling myself to tell them about Renée and Charlie. I start with Phil though, and wait for Jasper and Emmett to fall over, which they almost do, but then they just sit with their mouths open for so long I worry about flies making themselves at home.

"I know, right?" I ask with a shake of my head. I've had a hell of a lot longer than them to get used to the idea and I still can't wrap my head around it.

I move onto Renée's story. Rose sniffs, Emmett rubs her back, and Jasper's nostrils flare as he breathes in and out. When I tell them about Charlie there's a lot of cursing, a lot of sighs and shaking of shoulders with heads bowed. I hand Rose two napkins; one so she can wipe her face, the other so Emmett can wipe his. Jasper's stone still, muscles tense as he stares off into the distance.

"Holy shit," Emmett mutters, his voice thick with emotions he'd rather not show but does nonetheless because how can he not be affected?

How could anyone?

Suddenly, Rose stands and looks around, almost frantically. She looks at the woods, like she can see Bella's house from here. She starts walking and I get up and reach out over the table, my hand closing around her wrist.

"Rose, where are you going?" I ask.

"To get Bella. She should be here, with you, with us. She doesn't need to stay home all by herself, that's just … she shouldn't," she says quietly and her shoulders slump.

And there's the Rose I know and love like a sister.

"I know, Rosie, believe me I know," I answer back just as softly and pull her forward so she'll sit again. "It's a lot and it sucks and it's awful, but Bella's so strong." I can't help the pride and the awe and the well, I have to say love, because there's no other word for it at this point.

"She won't leave her mom, you guys," I say on a sigh. "She's terrified something will happen and she won't be there if it does. When she goes outside at night, it's like it's the one time she can leave everything inside, for just a little while. Her mom's all she has left, even though she's not really here, but she can't let her go, she doesn't know how."

I look at them again and say, "I think Bella's closed herself off for so long that she doesn't know how to feel anything, so she pours it all into hoping her mom will wake up. This, whatever you want to call it, with me, as strange as it is to say, has given her something else to focus on."

"Edward," Rose says my name and it's in the same tone Jasper and Emmett used from before, though from her it's okay. I know she's worried that Bella doesn't feel about me the way I do about her, but I know the truth.

"Rose, I know what I'm doing, I promise. Being in Forks is going to be every bit as hard for Bella as it was being in Phoenix, harder in some ways. Phil's famous and I know, because I've looked at the articles on the Internet, that when Renée first had her accident, it was splashed everywhere," I mumble, agitated as much now as I was when I looked … after Bella told me her story of course.

"I remember hearing about that on ESPN," Jasper muses and I nod because I do, too.

Not that I had any idea that it would affect me personally way back then.

"But once everyone finds out about Renée and who Phil is, well, you guys know how things are; it'll be all anyone talks about. We haven't done anything all summer but practice and hang out here," I wave between us, "and with Dad not at the hospital, he wasn't here to talk about things up at the hospital. The Newtons have been in and out of town so far this summer, and so has everyone else, but that always changes after the 4th."

We all snicker a little bit because Mrs. Newton is the worst gossiper in the history of gossiping.

Hands down.

"What are you going to do when you go to camp?" Rose asks the million dollar question and I merely shrug, because at this point, I don't know.

"You'll figure something out," she tells me sincerely.

The rest of the day passes by and I try to enjoy myself, and I do, for the most part. I'm glad Jasper, Emmett, and Rose know everything now, though, and I'm sure Jas will tell Alice when they talk later.

By the time night falls and the sky's lit up with reds, blues, greens, and whites, the only thing I can think about is I hope that not far from here, Bella is watching, too, because it'd be nice to share this with her.

I want to share everything with her.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**This chapter was fun, just saying. So all the friends know (even Alice because you know Jasper's going to call her ASAP) think that'll help? Guess we'll see won't we.**

***giggles* There's something in tomorrow's chapter that I think, hope, you all will enjoy quite a bit.**

**Who thinks Rose is a Daisy Duck? A new pic tease will be up later.**

**See you tomorrow … everyone still with me?**


	39. Jasmine

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Okay, how about we start our Friday getting back to what Creeper and Drummer Girl do best, shall we? Pay attention now, Edward has a pretty big revelation somewhere around a third of the way into this chapter.**

**EEEEK!**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 39** **-** **Jasmine -** _**Aladdin** _

**Jasmine is free-spirited and brave. There might be a little rebel in her, too!**

"God damn it," I whisper hiss when I step on the stair that creaks, the right side of the fifth one from the top. I freeze, certain that Mom will wake up the second the sound floats through the air and slips beneath her door like some sort of wispy stream of smoke.

I'm being overly paranoid, I know I am. Mom's always been a heavy sleeper. I suppose that comes from living with Dad and his schedule for so long. I make it the rest of the way down the stairs with no incident, though it's not until I silently go out the sliding glass doors, that I allow myself to breathe.

The other night, the night after Mom and Dad got home, was so much easier than this. I'm sure it had something to with the fact that I was going out of my mind with wanting to see Bella so much that I ignored the spike of adrenaline and the way my heart hammered in my chest, much the way it is now. I have to take a few deep breaths and I can feel myself start to calm down by the time I walk in the direction of the woods.

Involuntarily, I shiver when a gust of wind buffets me, cooling the sweat that slides down the back of my neck. My footsteps are sure and quick; by this point I know the route between our houses as well as I know that the sweet spot when I shoot is to the left of the center of my foot. It's instinct and I give into the ease in which my legs carry me toward Bella.

I yawn, wide and for a long time, so long it makes my eyes water. I almost want to curse what seems like the never-ending cycle of clock watching, cat naps whenever I can find time for them, practice, spending time with Jasper, Emmett, and my parents, not to mention all the time I spend thinking about Bella. But how can I, really? It's exhausting at times and the nagging worry that I'm not as ready for camp as I should be is always present, but thoughts of Bella make it all fade away.

I feel myself harden as I skirt a fallen branch and then jump carefully, but without pausing, over a clump of rocks and dirt. The silvery-white moonlight, bright enough in a clear inky sky, makes it to where I don't maim myself - three weeks before camp no less - and I slow down, though every part of me screams to hurry up and just get to her. With my free hand I adjust, and let out a quiet, needy groan when I twitch inside of my shorts.

Fucking hell.

Realizing that it's a complete effort in futility to stop thinking about her so that my dick doesn't force its way out of my shorts, I give in and let the thoughts fly as my feet keep moving forward.

I want her.

I want in her.

On her.

Above her. Below her. Around her.

I want to feel her slick and hot. I want to feel hard nipples pressed against my chest and silky soft hair in between my fingers. I want to feel her breath, warm and sweet against my mouth, my ears when she tells me she wants me and Christ Almighty, do I ever want to hear her say that?

I'm pretty fucking sure I'm a third, a half, maybe even five-eighths sort of, probably, more than likely, I think, in love with her so it's more than just sex and wanting to get it on with her. There's an ache, and one that's not only between my legs, that longs for her. It goes deeper than just wanting to be the person that she leans on when everything with her mom and Phil overwhelms her, or the one whose hand she holds when she needs help.

I want to be hers.

I want it every bit as much as I want her to be mine.

It's way too fucking early to think in those terms, especially when I can't focus on much past seeing her now. I'm not an idiot, though Bella makes me as crazy as a shit house rat at times, and more often than not, I don't know which way is up, but even I know it's way too damn soon to think too far down the road. There's no doubting at this point that we like each other … a lot … but there's so much uncertainty, so much still to talk about, it scares the hell out of me to think too far into the future.

I scrub my face with my free hand as her house comes into view, thankful at least that my raging hard-on has subsided … for the most part. Just being in the same vicinity as her is enough to have me raring to go, but I've learned to manage.

The closer I get, the more nervous I become, especially when I see a strange large, black car in the driveway. My first reaction is one of fear, then it quickly changes to irrational jealousy. It takes all of thirty seconds to realize it's Phil's car. I walk quickly past it, shaking my head just a bit at how surreal the entire situation is.

Phil Dwyer, world-famous MLB baseball pitcher is here … in Forks … and as far as I can tell, no one knows. Or if they do, no one's talking. I wonder how Bella will handle that part of things as more and more people find out who her step-dad is and what's happened to her mom. However she deals with it, I'll be right by her side.

I hurry inside her building, totally thrilled to find her notebook waiting for me. Two days without her words is enough, and it makes me not want to even think about what camp will be like. I wasn't sure, especially with Phil here, how she'd handle things … this … but she promised she'd keep to her schedule if she could, or our schedule, I suppose. Thank God. I take a moment to let being this close to her, in our place, because oh yeah, it's just as special to me as it is to her now, wash over me and work its magic. It only takes a few deep breaths while the scent of sugar cookies and peppermint – which I've found out it is from her shampoo – saturates the air and seeps into my skin.

Her drumsticks lay across the snare. Jesus, I hope she plays tonight. Like her words, I need her music, too.

I open the notebook in my hand and do a quick once over of what I wrote to her last night. Not that I really need to, but sometimes, my brain moves faster than my fingers can form words, so I'm just making sure I don't sound like a bumbling idiot … or not too much of one at any rate.

_Bella,_

_I wish you could have been here with me tonight … or I was with you, or we just could have been together. I was surrounded by people all day, and while I had a decent time, I missed you. Is that strange? It is isn't it, since we've never done anything together, but I felt like there was this piece that was supposed to be here, but wasn't. Did you see the fireworks? I want to watch them with you … next year, okay?_

_Today_ _I told my friends about you and what happened to your mom and dad. Rose wanted to rush to your house to come get you. Jasper and Emmett about shit their pants when I told them Phil's your step-dad, just like I knew they would. They'll be such good friends to you, Bella. They can't wait to meet you and even though Ali isn't here, she will be so excited to hear about you. Please don't be nervous about meeting them, they're going to love you._

My stomach does its usual twisty turny thing seeing the word, because as much as I know they all will love her … they most certainly aren't the only ones that will.

Do.

Might.

Whatever.

_How's the visit with Phil going? Is it hard having him here? I want him to make things better for you, but I don't know if he just makes them worse. That's an asshole thing to say, isn't it? Shit, I'm sorry. I just hate thinking of you being sad or uncomfortable or anxious, like I really hate it._

I tell her some more about camp because she's asked. I tell her how long I've been working toward this and what it might mean for my future. Seeing my words, my dreams, written down in my own handwriting shocks the shit out of me, and it's pretty damn scary, too. I want so many things, and I'm as afraid of getting them, as I'm terrified I won't. College, playing professionally, traveling, representing the country by making the National Team … it's almost too much. But talking to her about it makes it seem not quite so daunting.

_When the fireworks were going off tonight all I could think about was kissing you beneath them, while they explode overhead and shower the sky with streaks of color. Of course I think about kissing you anywhere, anytime … all the time these days._

_Shit, I better stop before I make an ass out of myself._

_I can't wait to see you, I miss you._

_Edward_

Ugh. The girl has my brain so fried most of the time it's a wonder I'm able to form semi-coherent sentences to begin with.

I switch out the notebooks and glance at my watch. A sudden spike of anxiety makes me break out into a cold sweat when I remember that Phil's here and well, he might not be particularly understanding of the arrangement Bella and I have set up. I scurry to my post, breathing heavily for a few moments until I'm sure he's not watching me from a window or worse yet, trying to find a gun.

The thought makes me want to pee my pants.

Shit.

By the time I've beaten back the urge, I hear the door open and there she is. I groan. I bang the side of my head against the tree beside me and wrap my arm around it to hang on for dear life before my knees give out and I'm in a heap on the ground.

Jesus.

Black shorts, a tight, very short-sleeved, white t-shirt with Jasmine on the front, hair down and brushing her shoulders and curling around her face … making me really second-guess that whole 'I like her hair up better' thing. She hesitates, cocking her head, making it seem like she's listening to make sure no one inside, or Phil specifically, has heard her leave. I hold my breath. I need her out here tonight and my body sags against the tree when she takes a step, glancing in my direction for just a brief moment.

"Bella," I whisper her name only, but it's everything I need to say.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, I think it might be a little bit more than five-eighths don't you … maybe as much as seven-eighths I'd be willing to bet.**

**Tomorrow's pic tease makes me laugh, hope y'all like it.**

**For any of who who've read _The Breakers_ and are fans of Peyton, she's (and me I suppose) been nominated for the Best Original Character in the Twilight Eclipse Awards. Voting starts today and there are some amazing authors and stories nominated, lots of my favorites so be sure to check out all the nominees in all the categories! **

**twilighteclipseawards . blogspot . ca /p/ nominees . html**

**Talk to me, tell me what you thought of this one. I think it's one of my favorites!**

**See you tomorrow~**


	40. The Three Caballeros

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Thank you … seriously … THANK! YOU! You guys are awesome and I can't tell you how much you all made me smile yesterday!**

**Okay, a road trip with the boys, wonder how that goes?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 40 - The Three Caballeros -** _**The Three Caballeros** _

"Man I swear you drive slower than my Nana McCarty." Emmett huffs from the front passenger seat.

I snort and Jasper catches my eye in the rear view mirror and raises his right eyebrow like no one else I've ever seen. It makes a perfect arch and I swear it has a mind … and a voice of its own. Jasper can say just about anything he wants to say with that damn thing. I should know, it's told me plenty over the years, and probably more so in the last six weeks than the entire time I've known him.

Just to be an ass, and because he can get away with it because he's driving and we don't have any choice, he slows down, just enough so that it seems like the cars on either side of us are flying by.

"You are such a dickwad." Emmett huffs again, and tries to turn his body so that he's facing the window, but half his ass hangs off the seat and he looks ridiculous.

Jasper barely taps the breaks but it's enough to jostle Emmett and the gear shift almost makes best friends with Emmett's much-adored behind, or adored by Rose at least. I try not to laugh, but really I don't try very hard because that shit is funny as hell.

"Edward, you're sitting in the front on the way home," Emmett says with a scowl and I swear he's about five seconds from blowing steam out of his ears … maybe even closer since his face is almost purple.

I snort and shake my head. "If you weren't always such a little bitch about getting to ride shotgun maybe you wouldn't have just gotten a gear shift shoved up your ass."

Emmett throws himself back in his seat and crosses his arms tightly over his chest. "Getting back there is damn near impossible and I have to fold myself up like a fucking pretzel. Why the fuck do you have such a tiny car anyway?"

Jasper and I laugh again, because Emmett's been bitching about Jasper's Prius since he got it a few months ago. I stretch, well as much as I can and silently agree with Emmett about the pretzel thing, not that I'd ever tell him that.

"Well someone has to offset that beast of truck you drive. Besides, Alice loves my baby. She says I look good in blue," Jasper says, in that voice that I really don't like to hear because it's the one he usually uses when he talks to Alice.

After a few more minutes of grumbling by Emmett and egging on by Jasper, things calm down once more. I put my ear buds in and lean against the window, listening to some Eminem to get in the mood for the scrimmage. Normally I like to listen to something a bit mellower, but this scrimmage is really important. I need to be pumped and I damned sure need to be on my game.

We're less than three weeks until camp starts and with each passing day, my anxiousness grows. At the scrimmage last weekend I could tell, even though Coach and the guys on my team told me differently, that there are plenty of things I need to improve on before camp. My timing's off, my ability to read the field is rusty, and I'd have sooner died than to admit out loud - to Jasper especially - that my legs felt like Jell-O by the time the game was done. All things that I can work on, but it makes me nervous just the same. I'm my own worst critic, always have been, but I'm not deluding myself, there's still work to be done in the next few weeks.

"So do you think Coach will have us play in the new formation he showed us last weekend?" Jasper asks as he taps his fingers against the steering wheel.

I'm about to answer him in the affirmative when Emmett lets out a loud snore, mumbles something about Rose, cheeseburgers, and baby oil - a combination I don't even want to think about how they go together - then settles back in his seat, still fast asleep. Emmett and road trips are a … well a trip. He grouches and complains, whines about not having snacks, what music is playing on the radio, all within the first fifteen minutes mind you, then promptly falls asleep as soon as we hit the highway. He's just as bad when he drives, minus the falling asleep of course, but we've done this for such a long time it's like clockwork.

"Yeah, I do."

Jasper chuckles when he glances at Emmett and then he relaxes in the seat, resting his palm on the steering wheel and bobbing his head with the radio. "Me, too," he says, picking up our conversation. "I think it'll take a little getting used to having Sam on the wing instead of up top with me, but he can keep up with you, so it'll be fine."

We talk strategy for a bit, going over what we know about the players from the other team. This game, while supposedly a friendly match, is liable to be anything but. They're in the same division in the league Jasper, Emmett, and I play in and we beat them by one point for first place this past spring season, so they're bound to be still a little pissed.

More than likely a lot pissed.

Our ODP team is made up of players from all over, but the Premier League in Seattle is the best one around, so most of our ODP team is spread out among the teams that play in that league, plus a few others from surrounding areas. Because we've all been playing so long, we have years of history. From little boys just starting out as Under 7's and then moving up through Rec Leagues, and then Club Leagues, camps, and now into ODP, we've all been playing with and against each other for a long time. I don't think there's many like Jasper, Emmett, and me though, guys that have been on the same team for so long. I have friends and guys from all over that I keep in contact with on a regular basis, thanks to Facebook and email, but of course none of them mean as much to me as Jas and Em.

I sigh. That sick, nervous feeling I get when I think about the upcoming changes in the not so distant future is, as always, an unwelcome guest.

Fuck.

Part of me wants to fast forward to May and graduation so that all of the decisions I'm going to have to make are already over and done with, but the other part of me wants time to stand still, so that I don't have to do anything.

Well, nothing except think about Bella, because that's a fucking no-brainer. Even when I try not to think about her, she's always there, every minute of every day. While the future is still up in the air and there a lot of unknown variables at this point, the one thing I know for sure is that whatever I do and wherever I go, I want Bella with me.

I reach up and rub my fingertips across my chest, right above my heart and try not to count my chickens before they hatch, because there's a whole hell of a lot that can happen between now and May. To be completely morbid, Bella's entire world can implode in pretty much the blink of an eye if her mom dies. The thought of that hurts but the thought of Bella being destroyed, of her going back to being that girl I saw the first night, the one that thought she was completely alone and that no one would understand makes me want to scream and yell and hold on to her and never let her go.

"Hey, man, where'd you go?"

"Nowhere. I'm good." I answer the arch of his eyebrow as I turn from the window. I hold his gaze for a moment before he nods and starts singing to the radio. I know he knows I was thinking about Bella, but thankfully he lets it go.

I try to clear my head but it's just impossible at this point so I give in and let all my thoughts have free rein. Closing my eyes, mostly so Jasper doesn't try to make me talk to him, I go over the impending game in my mind, envisioning passing and shooting, dribbling, directing the plays as we move up the field. I'm confident that if we're on our game, we can win … even though the point isn't to win or lose in a friendly match because it's more for practice purposes … but we're guys and we always want to win.

Always.

It doesn't take long though for the gears to shift from soccer to Bella. I wonder how she's spending her day and if it's been a good day or a bad day for her. It seems lately, there have been more good than bad, but then again, I don't really know for sure because all I can see is when she's outside with me. The urge to just tell her that I'm done with the notebooks and I'm ready to stop being a damned vampire wannabe or something, only coming out at night, is so fucking strong, but then I think about how hard it would be to leave her when it's time for camp and I just can't do it.

I'm probably in love with her, but my entire future could be decided at camp.

Not literally of course. It's not like I can't ever play soccer again if I don't get held over and I don't get picked to be on the Regional Team … but it's been my dream for as long as I can remember. From the very first time I laced up my cleats and kicked a soccer ball, all I've ever wanted to do is play. As I got older and watched the World Cup for the first time, I knew I wanted to be a part of that. Playing at that level, against the best players in the world, in front of tens of thousands of people … it's what I've always wanted. I want to play on the National Team. I want to go to college and compete against the best, then I want to play professionally for as long as I can.

I won't say I've wasted time by being so preoccupied with Bella, but I also can't lie and say that my whatever you want to call it, obsession probably comes pretty damn close I suppose, hasn't left me slightly panicked about blowing this chance.

Okay, a whole hell of a lot panicked.

She's worth it. I know she is and she's needed me … every bit as much as I know I've needed her. I've never had this. That one person I want to share everything with and talk to until I lose my voice … someone that's mine alone. Jasper has Alice, Emmett has Rose, and my parents have each other, and even Ben has Angela, and God help me even Mike has Jessica, but me, I've always been the one to just watch from the sidelines.

I want what they have and I want it with Bella.

And that's why I can't be with Bella now.

She deserves every ounce of my attention, and I just can't give it to her right now. I want to, fuck do I ever want to, but I've worked my ass off for way too long now to let up even a little bit … even though I've done plenty of that already. I can't afford to do it anymore though.

Jasper and Emmett don't have the same dreams I do, they never have, but I love them for helping me try to achieve mine. They've given up a lot, too. Extra practices, time away from Rose and Alice, no going out on Friday nights when we have to go to Seattle on a Saturday morning, those and more are all things they've willingly done for me. Oh, they love to play, too, and they haven't ever done anything they didn't want to, but once we're done with high school, the chances of either of them playing after are pretty damn slim. Jasper maybe more so than Emmett, but it's not really what either wants to do for the rest of their lives.

The outskirts of Seattle come into view and I turn my music up as loud as it will go. I have a game to play and I need to focus.

A few more weeks. I just have to make it through a few more weeks and then … then nothing will keep me from realizing my dreams.

Bella and soccer … there's nothing I want more.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**I know, not much action, not even much guy time but it's really important for you all to see where Edward is coming from and all the things he has on his mind. He's got a lot going on and he's trying so hard to balance it all.**

**Tomorrow's pic tease will be up later.**

**For any of you who who've read _The Breakers_ and are fans of Peyton, she's (and me I suppose) been nominated for the Best Original Character in the Twilight Eclipse Awards. Voting starts today and there are some amazing authors and stories nominated, lots of my favorites so be sure to check out all the nominees in all the categories!**

**twilighteclipseawards . blogspot . ca /p/ nominees . html**

**Still with me? Things start moving tomorrow, camp is almost here!**

**Til then~**


	41. Quasimodo

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**You all are wonderful and I love each and every one of you for reading, reviewing, rec'ing … and especially for trusting and believing.**

**This one might hurt a little bit ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 41 - Quasimodo -** _**The Hunchback of Notre Dame** _

**Quasimodo is kind-hearted and gentle. He is fiercely loyal and protective of Esmeralda.**

_Hey, Edward,_

_How was your scrimmage? Did you win? I'm sure you keep score, right, even if it's a practice game. Did the new formation cause you any trouble? What did your coach say to you when the game was over? Did you score, did Jasper? Please tell me Emmett didn't let that one guy you told me about get one past him!_

_I thought about you all day, and imagined what it will be like to watch you play. I can't wait to see it. Maybe we could play together sometime. You would take it easy on me, wouldn't you? I used to play, before_ _M_ _om's … you know. I think I might like to play again one day._

_Phil's leaving tomorrow. It's been nice having him here, but I know being here with_ _M_ _om the way she is, it's hard for him. He doesn't really go in her room very often, I think it hurts him too much. We worked on the car a little bit, it should be ready to go soon. While you're away at camp maybe I'll work on it some, I don't know. I don't think I'll play much when you're gone. Somehow I don't think it'll feel the same._

_I keep looking up, hoping I'll feel you out there, but you're not. It kind of scares me how much that affects me._

_Well, since you're not here, I think I might go inside._

_It's cold and I'm tired._

_I hope you come tomorrow._

_I miss you._

_I need you._

_Yours,_

_Bella_

I sigh and it's not the good kind either. The kind that makes me feel warm and tingly and makes my knees bounce up and down. Nope, this one is more like trying to take a deep breath because my lungs can't find enough air. My stomach churns and my fingernails dig into my palms.

Fuck.

I feel just as bad, worse even, than I did when I crept into my bed just a few hours ago … after not seeing Bella … and read her words the first time. It took about all I had not to go right back to her house, to her and make her tell me what's wrong. In fact I was halfway down the steps before I heard the toilet flush in my parents' bedroom, so I hurried back to my room and climbed into bed.

Something's wrong.

Something's very, very wrong.

Bella rambles. It's cute and adorable and quirky and it makes me smile.

This, doesn't make me smile.

At all.

I hold the notebook tightly against my chest as if keeping her words close to me will somehow ease her pain. And my girl is hurting, there's no question about it. I can feel it, as much as if there was a knife slicing open my skin and salt was poured on the gaping wounds.

Did something happen to her mom? Is she sad because Phil's leaving? Is Phil taking her away? Is she mad at me? Is all of this too much for her?

I groan and roll over, still holding the notebook to my chest and stare out the window. I waited for her last night, for hours I stood and stared at her door, just willing her to come out, but she never did. It was bound to happen sooner or later, me going to her and her not coming outside, I just wasn't prepared for how much it would hurt, like a blow to the solar plexus, knock the wind right out of me hurt. With Phil here, having to go to Seattle for my scrimmage, the 4th, and my dad's schedule, there hasn't been much communication as of late.

It's almost insane how much I crave her words now. I always want her, of course, but I need her to talk to me every bit as much. I feel every word she writes, because I know she's talking to me; her heart's talking to me. Which is why this last letter is about enough to make me want to pull my hair out.

I know her. Know the way she writes, know her voice through her words, and I know if she would have been able to come outside last night, there wouldn't have been any playing. Dancing maybe, reminiscent of that one night that seems like almost a lifetime ago, when she was hurting so badly. She's danced some since then, but never like that. I'm not sure I ever want to see it again, either, knowing the pain she's using to punish her body, but I also know if she doesn't let it out somehow, it will consume her.

And there's no way in hell I'll ever let that happen.

I need her too much.

_Yours,_

_Bella_

I try to concentrate on those words, and allow the soothing comfort of knowing how true that is to seep into my skin and spread from my toes to the tips of my fingers and all the way to the top of my head. She is mine. I am hers. Whatever it is that's caused her to hurt we'll face it together because she's not alone in this, not any more.

Finally, I force myself out of bed, achy and sore from both the scrimmage, the long car ride, and late night getting home. It's Sunday so that means it's chore day. Normally I'd complain or at least mention a few times that Sundays were supposed to be a day of rest, to which my mom would simply give me that Mom look, and I'd go do all the things I'm going to do anyway, but today, I attack with more gusto than is probably wise.

I need to keep my mind busy …

I mow. I clean the pool. I do some laundry, clean my bathroom – which I have to say is probably much cleaner than most – change the sheets on my bed, and I even wash my car. I spend the entire day with my ear buds in and try not to worry about Bella, or what Coach told me last night, or anything else and just _be_.

By the time I'm done and have napped, showered, and changed clothes, Dad's home and it's time for dinner. I hear Mom in the kitchen as I walk down the stairs.

"Oh that poor girl, Carlisle!" she sniffs and I freeze, knowing immediately who she's talking about.

Dad sighs, the doctor one that's full of medical knowledge and compassion. He normally puts most people at ease when he does it, but for me, right now, not so much.

Not even a little bit.

"I know, sweetheart. I got the file of course while we were gone and skimmed it then but spent some time studying it this past week. It's just a horrible situation for all of them," he says, sounding tired and sad.

"No kidding," I mumble.

I hear cabinet doors close and plates clank. "Is there any hope of recovery?" Mom asks and I suck in a sharp breath and hold it.

I know the answer.

I hate the answer.

I don't want to hear the answer.

But he says it anyway.

"I'm a doctor, Es, so I always believe there is hope, but realistically, objectively, there is very, very little. Mrs. Dwyer has been in the state she's in for over a year now and in that time there's been no change. Not even a tiny blip of improvement."

Hearing those words obliterates the last shred of hope I had for Bella and for Renée and I'm barely able to keep myself from collapsing onto the floor. I already knew it, deep down anyway, but hearing the words from my dad makes them so much more real.

Fuck.

"I can't even imagine what that family must be going through. It's just tragic and then to have to make the decision about when and how to say goodbye and let that poor woman rest in peace … it's just awful." Mom sniffs, and I can tell from the tone of her voice she's already trying to figure out ways to help.

"I've spoken with the husband and both nurses, the nurses more frequently though. I think he's already accepted that his wife's gone; it's the daughter that's having difficulty right now."

"That poor girl," Mom says and I can just see her shaking her head at the unfairness of it all.

I hear the ping of silverware, then the oven door open and close. The tinkle of ice in glasses and the faucet turn on. My parents move from the topic of Bella and her mom to plans for the upcoming week. Normal, everyday activities that make up the soundtrack of my life, and things Bella won't ever share with her mom again. No chopping vegetables for a salad, or frosting a cake for a birthday, or standing at the kitchen sink washing and drying dishes together while a radio plays in the background. All things I know she's done before with her mom because she's told me, but after listening to my dad, things that seem impossible now.

I can't stand here any longer, because really all I want to do is walk out the front door and march straight over to Bella's. The only thing stopping me, besides the whole we haven't even met yet and this is not how I want it to happen aspect, is that Mom's made her famous Italian sausage lasagna for dinner and I smelled brownies earlier, too.

Hey, I'm a growing boy, I always want food.

I try to put a smile on my face when I walk in the kitchen, though thoughts of Bella and what my dad said swirling in my mind make it a little difficult. When Mom smiles at me as I walk in, I'm happy that my smile feels natural and easy.

I wish so much Bella could have the same thing.

"I knew you'd be down as soon as you smelled food," she says, grinning as I take my seat next to my dad.

"The yard looks good, son, and I see you cleaned the pool, too. Do you need extra money or are you trying to soften me up so you can ask me something?" Dad teases as he takes a drink of his iced tea.

I shrug and start to slouch down in my chair until Mom raises one eyebrow and I sit back up again. "Nah, just in the mood to stay busy I guess." I hedge, hoping that neither one of them can hear the sadness that's eking out.

Mom hands out the plates and we all dig in, the only sounds are ohhhs and ahhhs, a few groans, mostly from me, and the clatter of forks against ceramic. Once dinner is half done and conversation starts once more, I know Mom will bring up Bella.

She doesn't disappoint. "So, Edward, have you seen a new girl around town yet this summer? She's your age and will be starting school with you in the fall."

I almost choke on my lasagna. Even though I know it's coming, hearing my mom talk about my girl, even though she doesn't know she's my girl yet, is just plain weird.

"Um, no. The guys and I have been pretty busy with practice and then we just hung out here most of the time while you were gone, so there hasn't been much time for anything else," I sputter, my throat still burning from hacking up a lung.

"Well, I'm sure you and your friends will be just what she needs. She's ah …"

It's so out of character for my mom to stammer, which only makes my pulse race and my knee bounce beneath the table.

She sets her napkin down beside her plate and she looks at my dad and then at me. When she does, I see everything Bella must see when someone talks to her and I understand her even more than I did before. Pity, sadness, empathy all shine out of my mom's eyes and my nails dig into my thighs.

"The poor girl is all alone, well mostly anyway, and she's dealing with so much. She'll need friends, Edward, so you be sure to look after her," she says with a sad smile and pats the back of my hand before standing up to begin clearing the dishes. Dad follows right behind, leaving me alone.

"Way ahead of you, Mom," I whisper and stare out of the window.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Ouch. Wasn't that bad was it?**

**Tomorrow's chapter was … unexpected, but one I'm extremely anxious to share with you all.**

**Pic tease will up later like always.**

**Be sure to check out all the nominees and vote in the Twilight Eclipse Awards. So many talented authors in this fandom, I honored to be among each and every one.**

**twilighteclipseawards . blogspot . ca /p/ nominees . html**

**I need you guys to have faith and trust just a little longer, okay? You'll see …**

**'Til then~**


	42. Geppetto

**SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Okay so this one, I think this one will hurt, maybe a little, maybe a lot. I do know you'll need tissues.**

***deep breath* and … away we go ...**

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**Chapter 42 - Geppetto -** _**Pinocchio** _

**Geppetto's generosity gets him noticed by the Blue Fairy. He becomes a devoted father who is protective yet lovable.**

"Bella?" Phil asks as he pokes his head in my room.

I close my eyes and quickly wonder how long I can keep them that way before he assumes I'm sleeping and just leaves. Then I realize I'm trying to delay the inevitable and it's probably better to just get this over with.

I turn my head and stare at him, feeling my stomach clench when he looks at me with so much confusion and worry and yes … love. Damn it.

"Yeah?" I manage to croak though my throat feels like it's lined with sandpaper.

"I'm going to have to head to Seattle soon. Will you have lunch with me?" He sounds so sincere that I can't say no, even though eating is the last thing on my mind.

I also can't help but smile at him. He's so different than people would expect him to be. I know that's probably the case with most people who are public figures, but Phil really is. He walks around in a backward baseball hat, baggy cargo shorts and sandals … actually they're those God-awful foam Croc things and in a hideous shade of green no less. Although, come to think of it, maybe that is the way people imagine him when he's not on the mound in front of thousands of people, I don't know … he's always been just Phil to me.

I sit up and spin around, hanging my legs over the edge of my bed. I look at him and I can't help but smile. "That'd be nice. Let me take a shower and I'll meet you in the kitchen in about thirty minutes, okay?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment as he gazes at me and I can't help but wonder what he sees. I don't think he sees as much as Edward does, I don't think anyone could, but when he tilts his head to the side and his eyes soften a little bit, I think he sees enough. Probably more than I want him to, to be honest.

"Thirty minutes is fine. Did you want me to get started on making something?" he asks and at that there's no stopping the quiet giggle or the rolling of my eyes.

"Um, Phil, you can't even make a peanut butter and jelly without tearing the bread all up. I'll make us something when I'm done. You can make some iced tea though, if you think you can manage," I tease as I stand up.

"Sounds good. Maggie's gone to the store so it's just the two of us." He grins then it falls almost immediately.

We both know what he's left unsaid, that it should be the three of us. He gives me a sad look and I watch his shoulders fall. I feel like I should say something. It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him it's okay, but I know there are no words to offer him that can make any of this okay because each of know it's not … and won't ever be.

There's a wide gap, like we're each standing on opposite sides of a huge gorge, with jagged rocks and rushing water beneath us and Mom was the bridge that connected us to each other. Without her, there's nothing but open space, rife with pitfalls and lots of pain if we fall. It's so easy to stand on the other side and just watch, wait, rather than try to find another bridge. It won't be the same, it can't ever be, but I know if we looked we'd find one. It'd be rickety and scary to cross, but it just might be worth it to try.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen in a little bit," I say softly. The urge to hug him overwhelms me for a moment, making my steps falter and for goosebumps to break out all over my skin. Before I can act though, he's gone, and all I see is his back, his head down as he walks away.

An hour later finds us sitting at the table in the kitchen. We eat grilled turkey and swiss cheese sandwiches, munch on chips and carrot sticks and make small talk, ignoring the topics we both know we need to be addressing. Once the dishes are done and Maggies' kitchen, who has remained conspicuously absent for much longer than a trip to the grocery stores, especially in Forks should take her, is back in order, I hear Phil clear his throat.

I take a deep breath, knowing he's about to make me talk about things, things I'd so much rather leave dormant. Things that prick and needle and slice and hurt … things that I'd so much rather leave alone and at rest, not peace though, not ever that, but sleeping. The thought immediately makes me think of Hagrid's dog Fluffy fast asleep as long as the music plays, but once it stops, it becomes a rabid beast.

"Come take a walk with me," he says softly and though he's made it sound a little bit like a question, I know it's not.

The day is overcast, smoky gray and a little cool, even for July. We don't say anything for a while, we just walk close to each other, but not touching. I slip the elastic band from my wrist and pull back my hair when it's blown in my face one time too many and he chuckles beside me.

"I can still remember the first time I saw you. Your hair was blowing all around your face and with the sun shining on it; it looked like there were streaks of fire through it. But what got me was your smile." He nudges me with his elbow as we walk around the property, first along the side farthest from my building. "Do you remember that day?" he asks and when I nod, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and keeps up the trip down memory lane. It's a good memory though, so I relax against him as we continue walking.

"I remember thinking it was going to be a game just like any other game, you know?" he asks rhetorically, going on before I can even nod my head at him. "That game especially is always hard, all those families who've lost a loved one in the line of duty, it really makes you stop and think sometimes. There were so many kids there, like there usually is, but I kept going back to watching you while the other players were visiting with the group. You sat through all of the introductions, while the other kids' oohed and ahhed over the famous baseball players, looking all lost and afraid until Renée whispered something in your ear and your smile lit up your face brighter than the sun that day. I remember thinking that I'd never seen anything so perfect as the two of you, with your faces pressed close together, whispering secrets that for some reason I wanted to be a part of. In the middle of a baseball stadium, surrounded by all those people, and the only two I saw was you and your mom. I think I fell in love with both of you right then and there."

I open my mouth to say something, what I have no idea, but there are words that stick to my throat like glue. I have to swallow a few times and then I lick my suddenly dry lips before I say quietly, "She was my best friend."

The hand that's been moving up and down my arm as we walk stills and I hear him inhale. "I know, sweetheart."

"I miss her so much," I say brokenly, trying to keep from crying, but not doing a very good job at all when I feel tears fall down my face.

"I know you do. I do, too."

Neither of us say anything after that for a few minutes, but we keep walking. The silence isn't uncomfortable, though I think it probably should be for some reason. His hands are now in his pockets and when I peek at him out of the corner of my eye he's looking off into the trees. My heart races and my stomach flip-flops when we pass the section of the forest I know Edward watches me from and I take a deep breath. I can feel him. He's not here, he's probably miles away, but I can feel him.

I smile a tiny bit at that, even though my heart feels like it's shattering into a million tiny shards of glass. I wrap my arm around Phil's bicep and lean my head on his shoulder.

He pats my hand and then lets it rest atop of mine. "Are you happy here, Bella? Do you like Forks?"

My first instinct, unfortunately, is to pull away, but for once I take a deep breath and give him what he needs. "It's nice here and I think I can be," I answer him slowly and I know I mean it.

It's not just because of Edward, though I can't lie and not say he's not a huge part of why I feel that way, but it's more than that. It's his friends and the way he talks about them and his family. It's the feeling I get when I drive through town and look at the people going about their everyday lives. Edward had asked before why Forks, and other than the out of the way location and the fact that there's a hospital close by to help with Mom's care, it was pretty much like throwing a dart at a map on a wall. Now that I'm here, and now that there's an Edward, it seems like fate or whatever you want to call it.

Phil stops and turns to face me. He grabs my hands and holds them in his and I try not to cry but it's been so long since someone's touched me, held me, that I can't help it. "You know that's all I want for you, Bella. I love you, even though I sometimes feel like you don't know that, or I don't show you enough. I'm not your dad. You had one of those, and he was an amazing man and you still love and miss him. I wouldn't want to, nor would I even try to take his place, but please believe me when I tell you I want to be a part of your life. I didn't mean for it to seem like I was sending you away and I'm afraid it has, it does. I just … I can't …"

His voice falters and then I'm not the only one crying. "I love your mom and I miss her every single day. She's the love of my life and I wanted to spend the rest of every one of my days with her … and with you. When I married her, I wanted us to be a family. I still want that, even though we don't see each other very often. It's just so hard to be here, with her like she is, because that's not my Renée. That's not the woman that left her shoes in the middle of the living room floor because she all of a sudden had the urge to go barefoot, or the woman that could make a dog cower in the corner trying to hide when she sang those horrible country songs or the woman that tried to make us mittens because she wanted to learn how to knit even though we lived in Phoenix. That's the Renée I want to remember, not the one that's laying in that bed.

"Bella, sweetheart," he murmurs and pulls me against his chest when my tears come so fast I can't even see. "That's your mom in there, and you've loved her a hell of a lot longer than I have, and I know you're not ready to let her go yet. I understand, I do, and I will wait as long as it takes for you to be able to say goodbye. I've already said my goodbyes to her, I did it a long time ago, but I'm not you. I won't rush you or push you, or do anything but wait until you're ready."

I sniff and clutch at his shirt, pressing my entire body against his. His arms engulf me, and I let myself feel the love that's always been there. I've always known it, even if I didn't always acknowledge it … or want it. "But what if I can't? I don't want to let her go, because if I do, then I'll be all alone." I say the words, and feel them and they claw and slice and hurt coming out of my mouth.

Phil kisses the top of my head and then shifts so that he can place his hands on my cheeks. He holds my head and then runs his thumbs beneath my eyes to wipe my tears away. Tears stream from his eyes and the tip of his nose is red but really all I can see is how much he loves me … and my mom. He's just as alone as I am. Even though he tries to go on, I can see in this one moment that it's taken a toll on him. Lines that weren't there before web out from the corner of his eyes, his hair, which Mom loved to tease him about is dull and flat, and I don't think I've seen him smile once since he's been here, except when we were working on the car.

He's miserable.

He might have said goodbye to Mom but he's still mourning what's he's lost.

"You won't be alone, Bella. You'll always have me."

When he pulls out of the driveway a few hours later, I realize when I glance down at the notebook in my hand, that maybe, just maybe, I'll be all right.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

***sigh* It was hard to write, if that helps.**

**Tomorrow … much, much happier, though Edward's leaving for camp is just around the corner.**

**Pic tease later, like always.**

**Let me know what you thought about this one, okay? Like I said it wasn't really planned, and not like this, but, well, I'm happy it turned out this way. Are you?**

**See you tomorrow!**


	43. Flik and Princess Atta

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Okay, you guys totally blew me out of the water with all your reviews … and more importantly, your love for Phil and Bella. As I said, that chapter sort of wrote itself after a nudge from Laurel, but I'm so glad it did. Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback; it means more than I can say.**

**Now … how about we turn those frowns into big happy smiles?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


  


**Chapter 43 – Flik and Princess Atta –** _**A Bug's Life** _

**These two love to argue, and love to love.**

_Edward,_

_Remind me to never throw food at you. I can't believe you did that to Emmett. Not saying he didn't deserve it, but when you pay someone back, you pay them back! Good thing you two have Jasper to keep World War 3 from erupting. I have a feeling that he takes his job seriously_ _;_ _he'd have to I think with the two of you. You know I mean that in the best way, right? Your friends sound really nice. I'm nervous about meeting them, but excited, too. Nothing compared to what my stomach does when I think about seeing you for the first time, and don't even think about asking, because I'm not telling you!_

_So you're leaving early for camp, huh? Is it bad if I say I wish you weren't going? I know your parents feel bad about missing your birthday though, so I understand about them wanting to do something to celebrate. You and your friends will have fun in Seattle for the week before you go to Oregon. Phil and Mom missed my 16th birthday. I was pretty bummed, but I never told them. Phil was in the playoffs that year; I bet you remember that don't you? It's so weird knowing you know who he is, but to me he's just Phil, but anyway. Mom never left me very often, in fact hardly ever, but Phil really wanted her at that game that year so they had our neighbor, Mrs. Hinojosa, stay with me (she taught me how to make the most delicious guacamole, do you like it? If you do, maybe I'll let you taste it sometime). Mom was gone for a few days and I don't think she even realized my birthday was going to be while she was away, until it was too late. When they got home, I swear it took a week before they stopped apologizing, then they took me to a Taylor Swift concert and it was a night I'll never forget._

_Thanks for reminding me that there are plenty of good memories, I just need to remember them._

_Has anyone ever told you, you_ _'_ _re a great guy_ _…_ _because you are._

_And if I haven't said it in a while, or ever, I'm really glad that you couldn't sleep that one night._

_Bella_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~** _  
_

_Bella,_

_I don't think I can talk to you any more … how can you not love the Beatles? I mean, you call yourself a musician (and yes, you are a fucking amazing one) but really, you don't even like them, not even a little bit? A Hard Day's Night? Hey Jude? Yellow Submarine? Okay, I'll give you that one, but come on!_

_I suppose if you make me some more cookies I'll forgive you. Those things would bring world peace, I swear they would. But wait, never mind. I want to keep them for myself. Emmett would do just about anything for some of those. Ohhh … I need to remember that_ _._ _I have a secret weapon now!_

_Of course I want to keep you for myself, too._

_Um, you asked me most embarrassing moment. Ugh, I can't believe I'm going to tell you this. Okay, we were playing in a big tournament in Seattle. It was the spring season, probably early April, and of course the ground was wet like it always is. Anyway, we had the ball and were moving up the field, like Jas and I were flying and the guy that was marking me had to be at least ten feet behind me. Jas was in the perfect spot, a little off center of the goalie and ready to just head the ball in when I passed it to him. I remember feeling a little off while I was running but all I could concentrate on was getting Jasper that ball. Well, I did send him the perfect ball, at the same time as my shorts fell down around my ass, and past my knees. I was going so fast that my feet got tangled up in my shorts and I fell face first in a soft spot of the field and landed in a huge mud puddle. There I was in the middle of the field, face covered in mud, and my ass on display for everyone … and the worst part? I'd forgotten to do laundry the day before so I was wearing a pair of boxers that Emmett had given me as a joke for Valentine's Day … they were black and had hot pink lips on them._

_Good thing? Jasper scored and we won the game. Even better? I gave Em some boxers for Easter that year that had little bunnies on them._

_I like it when you smile, Bella, I like it a lot._

_I like you a lot._

_Edward_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~ _  
_**

_Edward,_

_Did you see the moon tonight?_

_It was so big and so bright and the sky was so clear. I think I saw a million stars._

_I wished on one._

_I wished for you to kiss me. Do you think my wish will come true?_

_Yours,_

_Bella_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~ _  
_**

_Bella,_

_I dreamt about you last night. Granted I dream about you every night, but last night was different._

_We were together someplace, though I don't know for sure where it was, but wherever it was, we were happy to be there. We were happy because we were together._

_And yes, I kissed you._

_Over and over and over again._

_I hope you like kissing as much as you do in my dreams because I plan on kissing you a lot._

_I'm yours if you want me to be. Please want me to be._

_Edward_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~ _  
_**

_Creeper,_

_I hate you right now, like seriously hate you._

_Okay you asked, are you sure you want to know? I'm mad at you because you know since you asked I'll tell you, but if you were here, I'd really beat you over the head with my drumsticks._

_Some dates but only two serious boyfriends, if you can call going out with one boy when I was fifteen for three months serious … and really we didn't go anywhere, at least not anywhere our parents didn't take us, and it was only to like the movies and out to eat._ _T_ _hen I dated this one guy when I was sixteen for almost five months so it was a little more serious. We actually broke up not long before Mom's accident. He had a car, a Volvo, that he thought was so awesome but really was kind of dorky, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that. Oh, God, please don't tell me you have one of those … you don't do you?_

_And um … shit … okay … kissing of course. Under the shirt, under the bra, inside the jeans but not anything more than that. And God, I so want to kill you right now, I've only been outside the jeans._

_Happy now?_

_Ugh, I'm going to go beat on some drums and imagine it's your face._

_Bella_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~ _  
_**

_Drummer Girl,_

_So much violence, does that mean I don't need to worry about you taking care of yourself now? Wait, don't answer that because no matter what the answer is, it won't matter anyway. You don't have to worry about it, not while I'm around at least._

_And I plan on being around for a long, long time._

_Is it possible to kick my own ass because I really kind of feel like doing that now. Or bleach for my brain. Or maybe for a round_ _-_ _trip ticket to Phoenix to go beat the shit out of … well fuck, I don't even know who, only that the thought of you with some nameless, faceless asshat (or more than one which is even worse) makes me want to go on a rampage._

_One of these days I'll learn to keep my damn mouth shut, especially when it comes to you, but fucking hell, Bella, I want to know everything about you, even the stuff that makes me want to pull my hair out. Like hearing you talk about someone else kissing you, touching you, when I've not even stood closer than fifty feet from you. I'm totally not counting the accidental almost meeting in the Thriftway, which right about now, I'm seriously considering kicking my ass … again … for fucking up._

_Guess it's my turn now, huh? How the hell did you do this? I feel like I'm going to be sick. This won't change anything will it? Fuck, what I wouldn't give to call you right now, but then hearing your voice would turn me on and I definitely wouldn't want to tell you any of this then, so fuck it, maybe this is for the best._

_You know, we're pretty brilliant when you think about it. We're getting all this awkward shit out of the way first and when we finally see each other face to face there will be only you and only me and nothing else will matter._

_Okay, no names from me either, unless you really want them because unlike me, you will eventually know who all these people are. Kill me now. Girlfriends – I dated one girl for a few months during this past year. Honestly I think it was so she'd have a date for Prom because we broke up the week after. Before that, a few others here and there, but usually only for a few months. Like you, some dates, too, to things like the Soccer Banquet and Homecoming but they weren't anything serious._

_Um … kissing yes. I've been under clothes, top and bottom. Haven't been any further than that though, fingers only. And, ah shit … they've been (and really not that many, I promise!) inside boxers, but again, hands only._

_Jesus Christ, I want to shoot myself. And I don't have any drums to beat on so I'm going to go run … for a really long fucking time._

_See you tonight …_

_Fuck do I ever need to see you._

_Edward_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~ _  
_**

_Edward,_

_Oh God. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I've been figuring out a way to ask you if we could text and email while you're at camp, but was so afraid you'd say no, I couldn't do it. I know, a stupid thing to worry about, but still, you never know, you know?_

_I want you to do so_ _well_ _, and I want you to have to stay longer because that means the coaches think you're good enough to move up to the next level (like I already know you are!) I want you to have fun with your friends and eat lots of junk food and go watch the Sounders play and scream until your throat hurts … but I don't want you to forget me either._

_I'm going to miss you so much._

_You'll text and email, right? And you'll still write in our notebooks?_

_I'm going to miss you. I know I said it already, but I really, really will._

_When you come the night before you leave, will you come closer? I want to give you something to take with you, but I want to give it to you … and I want to hear your voice, just one time, before you go. I know you have a lot to focus on and I don't want to mess that up. I know if we saw each other now, it would. You've worked so hard, and for so long, and I won't let anything, especially me, get in the way of that. I want to be selfish and beg you to just come inside, but I can't do that and to be honest, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to let you go once I ha_ _ve_ _you in front of me._

_I can't believe it's almost time for you to go_ _._ _I thought I'd have more time, you know? And I didn't think it would scare me so much to say goodbye but I'm terrified of you leaving and not coming back._

_Please don't forget about me._

_Yours,_

_Bella_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Okay, now you all get that these are a few of the letters leading up to Edward leaving for camp, right? I don't want anyone confused, but I am not showing every word they speak to each other, so you should be able to get the gist of things I think.**

**And with that, there's a goodbye to get to next chapter. I think it might go a bit differently than some of you think it will!**

**Pic tease later like always.**

**Don't forget to vote for all your favorites in the TwilightEclipse Awards. So many amazing choices.**

**As ever and always, I just can't thank you all enough for sticking with me this far. Keep the faith everyone, it's going to pay off in the end!**

**See you tomorrow …**


	44. Simba

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**AHHHH! I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am you all loved the last chapter so much! Gotta tell you, it was so much fun to write, too!**

**I don't even know what to say before you start this one, so have it people, see you at the bottom!**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 44 - Simba -** _**The Lion King** _

My hands shake. I can feel sweat pool beneath my arms and run in rivulets down the center of my back. It makes my t-shirt stick uncomfortably to my body, twisting and bunching so much it makes me feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin. My knee bounces as I sit on the edge of my bed and all the work I've done to fix my hair, even though Bella won't see it, is ruined because my hands have been in it relentlessly over the past hour.

I knew I'd showered too early, but I couldn't help it.

I'm going to talk to Bella tonight, like hear her voice talk to her … and she's going to hear mine for the first time. Something that maybe shouldn't feel as monumental as this, like seeing Santa Claus for the first time or maybe even when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, but shit, this is huge.

Huge.

I have to take a few deep breaths to keep my stomach from turning itself inside out, like it's about to do. My whole body is a jumbled mass of nervous energy, worse even than before I play a big game.

It's more than just talking to Bella and having to say goodbye to her, and, fuck I really don't want to do that at all, but it's everything else, too. When I leave tomorrow, nothing will ever be the same again. When I get back, everything will change. I'll know what my future will hold, for the most part anyway, because if I get held over at camp and then make the Regional Team, I'll be well on my way to realizing all of my dreams. Not to mention, when I get back, Bella will here and we'll be together.

Like really, really together.

Face to face together.

Over the past few weeks, things have gotten both more serious and deeper between us, as we've shared more than ever before, I can tell Bella is changing. Phil's visit was so good for her. Since he'd left, it's like she is starting to allow herself to feel again, try again … hope again. I'd like to think I have a lot to do with that, and I'm pretty sure I do, but it has a lot to do with Phil and what he told her, too. When she told me all that they'd talked about and what it felt like to really open up to him after being so consumed with all the pain and grief she's been living with for so long, it was like I could see Bella, _my Bella_ , the one that I watch play the drums and dance and smile when some strange guy suddenly appears out of nowhere and leaves her messages and a goofy ass pen.

My girl is trying again, and it's fucking awesome.

Sighing and slapping my hands against the tops of my thighs, I push myself up off my bed and begin to pace, too anxious to go to her, but wishing the time would drag on and on so that I don't have to tell her goodbye. I grab my guitar off the stand in the corner and sit in the chair at my desk and strum quietly for a few minutes, closing my eyes and letting the chords and notes soothe the frenetic thoughts in my head.

Tonight's going to be hard. I'm not a fool nor am I stupid, well, not about anything but being crazy stupid most of the way in love with Bella that is. If I were to explain our situation and how the last six weeks or so have gone, I'd be committed, I know I would. The whole thing's been insane, but that doesn't make it wrong either.

Because it's so far from wrong it's on a whole other side of the world from it.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~~**

I walk through the trees, my heart beating so hard against my chest it feels like it's a jackhammer. I have never been so nervous, or wanted something so much, in my life. As I move closer to her building and to the spot where I've told her I'll be, it's almost as if time stands still. It's so weird because I make this walk almost nightly, have for half the summer now, but tonight, it's like I see everything for the first time.

The trees, the moon high overhead, the sprinkling of stars that look like confetti the way they're all haphazardly strewn across the coal black sky, the way her building is always bathed in a soft glow, as if it's being lit up solely for me to see.

I make myself comfortable along the side of Bella's building, or as comfortable as I can be on the cool, semi-hard ground and thank my lucky stars that it hasn't rained for a few days. Nothing worse than your ass being cold and damp, though it wouldn't be the first time I've had to endure my boxers sticking to places I'd much rather they didn't for Bella. I stretch my legs out in front of me and carefully set her new notebook on my lap and her CD on top of it.

I rub my finger back and forth across the top of the plastic jewel case. The moonlight glints off the silvery disc and my stomach sort of dive bombs and then shoots straight up when I think about Bella listening to me play for her. _God, what if she hates it?_ Fuck, please don't let her hate it.

Even before Bella asked for our 'meet but not really meet each other goodbye' I knew I was going to make her a CD of me playing the piano, and a couple of songs on the guitar, for her to listen to while I'm gone. I might be nervous about letting her hear me play, but I'm also selfish enough to want to leave her a piece of me while I'm gone. We're going to text and email, maybe even talk on the phone a few times, and I'm going to write to her every night, but my music is a part of me, something that comes from deep inside, and I know she understands that because it's the same for her. Even when I play something that belongs to someone else, it's still my fingers that press the keys or pluck the strings and it's still my emotions that spill out through the notes.

Mom and Dad went to Port Angeles a few nights ago for dinner and a movie so I used the chance to make Bella's CD. I picked songs that say the things I can't, and to reinforce the things I've already told her. I used them to tell her I'll miss her, I want her, I love her. I played some of her favorite songs, and songs she told me remind her of her mom and dad. I even threw in a few Beatles songs just to see what she'll say.

I just hope she hears what I'm trying to tell her.

I'm pretty sure she will.

I close my eyes and lean my head back, silently counting the seconds until Bella's here. Forever later, but really it's just a few minutes, maybe, I lost count, my skin tingles, my heart races and I strain my ears because I know she's here. I can feel it.

The soft slap slap of her flip-flops floats through the air and I suck in a sharp breath when the sound comes closer, closer. I hear her gasp, and then the sweetest little squeak follows right behind and I know, I fucking know she feels it, too. That sizzling, crackling energy that hums between us is alive and kicking and buzzing so loudly right now I can barely fucking think.

But I sure as hell can feel and right now my entire body is on fucking fire.

"Edward."

She breathes my name out, as if she knows, because she's definitely not questioning, I'm close by.

And her voice.

_Her voice._

Jesus, just hearing my name from her lips is enough to make that jackhammer from before feel like a God damn wrecking ball.

I'm so in love with her it's ridiculous.

"Bella." Her name comes out like some sort of sigh whimper combination that probably sounds way more uncool than I'd like it to.

But who cares.

She's here.

I'm here.

We're together.

_Holy fucking shit._

She giggles and I'm positive there's like angels singing somewhere or harps playing or some shit because it's the sweetest, purest, best sound I've ever heard.

I sit up straighter, and hold my breath, listening as she moves closer and then settles down on the ground. If I didn't know any better I'd swear that I can feel her, even through the wall that separates us. There's heat and electricity and just her.

When I can tell that she's situated I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I try it again and the same thing happens, only this time my tongue feels like it's about doubled in size and is like one of those cartoon things that rolls out of my mouth like a red carpet.

Shit.

She clears her throat though I can hear the smile that comes with it. "Um … hi."

"Hey."

She sighs, I smile, and just like that, I'm gone.

Not that I wasn't already, but Jesus …

Every night.

Every doubt.

Every sore muscle and sleepless night and every single moment of the past month and a half doesn't matter the second she says the first word. Whether it makes sense to anyone else how we've arrived at this point doesn't matter. The fact that she's less than a foot away from me, yet we still haven't set eyes on each other doesn't matter. The only thing, the only fucking thing that matters is right now.

And every moment from here on out.

"You're here."

I snort. "I'm here almost every night, Bella. I'm just closer."

There's no sound for a moment then she whispers, "Say it again. My name, please say it again."

"Bella."

She sighs again, like she was lost and just found her way home.

My heart, it takes off like a rocket and my stomach twists and turns so much I don't think I can eat ever again … except maybe Mom's brownies and of course I'd never, ever, turn down some of Bella's sugar cookies.

I sniff. "Holy shit you smell good. Sugar cookies, I knew it."

Her laugh sounds nothing like her giggle does. It's raspy and deep and quite honestly is sexy as all get out. "You have mentioned a time or two that you like the scent. I see now you're not exaggerating."

"Um, Bella, do you know what you smell like?"

"Well, I don't go around sniffing myself, so not really." She laughs. She doesn't say anything for a few moments and then she says, "In all the times I've thought about what our first conversation would be like, I can't say I ever thought it would start off with sugar cookies or the way I smell."

"You forgot the peppermint," I say softly, and I inhale deeply as the familiar and very welcome commingled scent fills my lungs.

"Your voice sounds exactly like you," she says a little hesitantly, like she's not sure she should tell me that.

She definitely should.

I chuckle and shift my position a little so my ass doesn't fall asleep. I'm used to standing, not sitting.

"So does yours, though I heard it that one time in the grocery store."

"I still can't believe you saw me that day."

"I can't believe I let you go that day."

I can't help but still be a little pissed off at myself about the whole thing. I wouldn't change a thing that's happened up until now, I really wouldn't, but I also can't help but wonder what would have happened, where we'd be now, if I would have talked to her that day. If we wouldn't be here, now, then I'm glad I was a chicken-shit.

Really fucking glad because right now is pretty damn perfect.

"I'm so glad you're really here." Her voice is soft, but now that I know where the accent is from, it's easier to pick up on.

I have to close my eyes and hold my breath for just a second or two before I can speak again. "Bella, the thought of leaving you sucks, but leaving without having at least this would have sucked even more."

"Can I ask you something?"

I lean to the side just a little bit, the urge to look around the corner so strong it's almost too hard to resist. I do peek though, then huff because I can't see anything, not even an ankle or a pinky toe. I sigh. It's probably for the best.

Sitting back up I answer her. "Of course. You can ask me anything."

She makes a sound, then there's nothing. She does it again and I smile because she wants to ask something, but she's afraid to. Silly girl. She should know by now she can ask me anything. Always.

"Spit it out, Drummer Girl," I urge, dying to know what's causing her to hesitate.

I expect her to laugh, or at least chuckle a little bit, but she doesn't do either. She just waits, and then waits some more until she asks, "Is it as hard for you to wait to meet face to face as it is for me? Because I have to tell you, having you right here, this close, is making this whole decision to wait to meet seem really foolish."

"Do you want to, you know, see each other? If you do, we can," I tell her immediately then squeeze my eyes closed. Fuck me if I don't want her to say yes, but then I want her to say no, too.

This time there is a little laugh, though it's one of those that's more of an I don't know what to do than an I'm happy kind. "I do, so badly, but then I think about you leaving and it makes me sad and scared and crap … I probably sound ridiculous."

"No, you really don't."

Neither of us say anything for a few minutes, but it's not uncomfortable at all. I glance to my left and realize somehow I'm closer to the corner of the building, so close I might be able to touch her. The thought makes me groan just a little and shift from my right ass cheek to the left to ease the tension between my legs. I hear a sound, a pffft, snap. I take a deep breath and my eyes widen when the scent of sugar cookies is even stronger than before.

I know what that means.

I hope like hell I know what that means.

"Bella, can I ask you a question now?" I try to keep my voice serious, level, even though I can feel a huge smile on my face. Jesus, does this girl ever own me, heart, body, mind, and soul.

"Yeaaaaaah?" she drags the word out, sounding as feisty and happy as all get out and I literally have to bite my tongue.

"Did you, by any chance, happen to make some more of your delicious sugar cookies, maybe as a going away present for little old me?"

"Why, Edward, whatever gives you that idea?" She giggles and I growl.

"I can smell them, Bella. Now, hand them over," and I laugh, but I'm not really kidding.

At least not much, because as it's been stated, Bella's cookies are to die for.

I hear the sound of something being scooted across the cement floor and when I look down there's another one of those plastic containers full of cookies. It's even bigger than the one from before and the only thing I can think of is keeping them away from Jasper and Emmett. There's plenty to share from the looks of things, Bella's intention I'm sure, but like I've said, I'm a greedy guy when I want to be, and when it comes to Bella's cookies I definitely want to be.

"You need to share; there's plenty," she scolds but she has to know that command is going in one ear and right out the other.

"Yeah, okay," I agree, and cross my fingers.

It's not a lie if fingers are crossed. I reach over and pick up the container, and lift the corner because there is no way in hell I have enough willpower to wait. "Oh, hell, Bella." I moan, smelling the vanilla, sugary goodness.

Frosted soccer balls and jerseys with my number on them … and there are even some with Jasper's and Emmett's number on them because she was sneaky and asked and I'm a sucker and answered.

"These are incredible," I say. "I wanted some of these to take with me, not even gonna lie." My voice is softer now, because as much as I wanted them, I'm really touched she thought to make them for me. I look down to my lap and my stomach sort of drops, like that ride at Six Flags that just goes up real high, then falls real fast. "I have something for you, too."

She gasps and it's all breathless and airy and it's just … well completely captivating. Ignoring the way my hands shake, I slide the CD toward her. I watch it and I swear every ounce of air leaves my body when I see the tips of her fingers reach out and touch the edge of the plastic case. Before I can even stop myself, I lean and stretch my arm so that I can hook my index finger around hers. The instant we touch, it's like nothing I've ever felt before. Tingles and sparks and goosebumps and a whole lot of other stuff happens all at once.

"Edward," she breathes out and whatever crazy thing is happening from just one touch is happening to her, too.

I wrap my finger tighter around hers, terrified to let her go. "Oh, Jesus … I didn't … this is so … um, wow," I ramble ridiculously.

"Yeah, wow." She giggles for a moment and then she lets go of my finger so she can pick up the CD.

I miss her touch immediately. A few seconds and I'm already addicted to the feel of her skin. I'm so fucked it's not even funny.

Again I have to ignore the urge to just lean a little bit more to the left so I can see her. "I made you a CD of me playing the piano … just some songs I thought you'd like. And, ah … there's a few of me playing the guitar, too. It's probably stupid," I start to say, but the words die in my throat when I hear a small sob and then a sniff.

"Baby, no," I say and reach my hand out again, trying to to touch her, and I immediately sigh when her hand finds its way to mine. I slide my fingers through hers and I wonder how I'll ever let her go.

"This is … I don't even know what to say. Thank you," she says so softly. She sniffs again, so I squeeze our joined fingers.

"Don't get too excited, it probably sucks. I didn't even listen to it once I was done with it." I laugh a little bit and feel kind of silly and a whole lot nervous about her listening to it now that she has it. "It's just … I wanted to leave you something that you could listen to while I was gone to remind you of me."

"It's perfect, Edward, just really, really perfect."

And now I don't feel so stupid anymore.

We sit for a long time, holding hands, and talk about a whole lot of stuff. Some serious, mostly not, but it's just her and me and us. It's exactly where I want to be.

I hear her yawn and I glance down at my watch. My heart clenches. I groan, I really, _really_ do not want to leave, but I have to.

"Bella," I begin.

"You have to go," she finishes.

"I don't want to, but yeah, I do."

"Here, don't forget this," she says as I see her notebook move toward me.

"Here's yours. You'll write every day?" I ask, not caring if I sound needy because damn it, I am needy. I need her.

"I will if you will," she says and I grin, probably more than I should because she sounds just as needy as I do.

"I wrote my email and cell number on the first page. I don't know what exactly we'll be doing, but text me … _a lot_ ," I emphasize, meaning it totally and hoping she does exactly that. "The schedule at camp will be pretty strict, but I'll try to answer as often as I can, okay?"

There's no answer for the longest time, long enough for me to start to wonder if this is all too much for her. Honestly, it's almost too much for me, but I want her, I need her, and I'm not giving her a chance to over-think this thing between us. Besides, that's my job, it's what I do.

"I'm going to miss you, but I hope you and your parents and friends have fun. I know you're worried about camp, but I know you'll do great," she says and her words … her belief in me … burrow deep inside of me and warm me from the inside out.

I lean over, not being able to resist. This is probably going to come back and bite me in the ass, but fuck it. I lift our hands and kiss the back of hers. My eyes close as my lips touch her sweet, soft skin for the first time. It's not her lips, but holy hell, it's incredible.

All over, everywhere, there's tingles and heat, and when I have to remove my lips, all I can think about is how fucking amazing it's going to be when I really get to kiss her.

"Promise me you'll call me if you need me, Bella. I mean it, please? If you need me for anything, just call me, okay. I don't care what it is or what time it is, just promise me you'll call."

"I will."

And now, as much as I fucking hate the thought, I have to go.

"I have to go. I don't want to, but we're leaving in a few hours."

I squeeze her fingers one more time, and then let go, feeling the loss instantly.

"Edward?" she questions as I stand up.

"Yeah?"

"Kick their asses." She giggles and I laugh with her.

"You got it."

As much as I hate leaving her, I know we're going to be just fine.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Finish my song; it'll be an awesome welcome home present."

"I think I can arrange that. Be careful and have fun, okay? Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, I promise. Just go do what you need to do," she tells me.

Standing up on wobbly legs that have nothing to do with sitting too long, I look out into the night. I hate having to leave, but I love knowing that when I come back, things with Bella will be different, better, everything.

"You promise you'll text and email and call me if you need anything? Rose and Ali will be here; they'll be here in a heartbeat if you need help," I remind her again.

"Edward, I'll be fine. It's okay. It's really nice of them to want to help and all, but well …" She stops suddenly. "I can't wait to meet all of your friends, but I don't want to see anyone until I can see you."

Her voice is soft but sure and as much as I hate the thought of her being alone, I can't deny that I want the same thing.

"Bella." I sigh, not at all sure what I'm trying to say.

"Besides I have a song to finish, I'll be busy."

I smile at that, because yeah, I want my song. "I really want to kiss you right now," I whisper.

"Soon," she says.

A promise.

And one I intend to keep.

I don't say anything. I don't move. Not until she says, "Edward, go."

"I'm not saying goodbye, just so you know," I answer stubbornly. The thought of saying goodbye, yeah, not going there. "So, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Later's good. Now go, shoo." She giggles and hearing that sound makes leaving just a tiny bit easier.

"See ya," I say one last time and then jog toward the woods, not looking back, though it feels all wrong to be going this way instead of back to her.

But soon I won't have to.

"Love you," I whisper, knowing she can't hear me, but I'll be able to say that soon, too.

Once I get far enough away that I know I won't turn around, I slow down and look at the notebook and container in my hand. I stop and flip open the notebook, smiling when her cell number and email is on the first page, just like I left her … and a long ass letter, too … again, just like me.

Saving the letter for later when I can really enjoy it, maybe with a cookie or five or six, I take my phone out of my pocket and program in her number. Unable to resist, I send her a message:

_I miss you already, but, soon, Bella … soon._

And because I want her to smile, even if I can't see it …

_BTW … what was the shirt tonight because I know you wore one for me. Bet you looked gorgeous … talk to you later! E~_

With a sigh, I put my phone back in pocket.

Soon.

It's become my new favorite word.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, do I get lots of hugs and kisses for that one? *sigh* you guys have no idea how long I've been waiting for some of these moments. Years, y'all, years. I know I've kept you all waiting, too, so now we can enjoy them together!**

**Bella's side of things tomorrow, wonder what our girl thinks of her Creeper now?**

**Pic tease later today. Who wants to guess what it'll be?**

**If I could, I would hug and kiss each and every one of you that reads and reviews and loves these two, I really would.**

**Let me know what you thought of this one, it's been a long time coming!**

**'Til tomorrow …**


	45. Nala

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters but the plot is mine.**

***giggles* I don't even have words for all of you amazing, wonderful, beautiful people! I smiled all day yesterday, you have no idea how much!**

**Now, let's see how our girl sees things …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

  


  


  


**Chapter 45 - Nala -** _**The Lion King** _

Cookies … check.

Notebook … check.

Freshly washed hair … check.

Butterflies the size of kittens … check.

Missing Edward already … check and double check.

"God, you are such an idiot, Bella," I grumble to myself as I look at my reflection in the mirror.

I showered way too early. Like hours too early.

Crap.

I'm so nervous about tonight, I couldn't help it. I spent the day in the kitchen, ignoring pointed looks from Maggie, especially when she spied the jersey-shaped cookies with specific numbers on them. She and I are definitely going to have to have a talk while Edward's gone. It's not like I'll have anything better to do anyway. Besides, I really need someone to talk to about everything.

There's a lot of everything.

I sigh and try not to think about the fact that I wish I could talk to Mom instead. I can, and I will talk to her like I always do, but as much as I want it to be, it's not the same.

I pick up a brush and pull it through the wet, peppermint-scented strands of my hair. I try to ignore the stutter step of my heartbeat but it's impossible. In a few short hours Edward, _Creeper_ , will be close enough for me to talk to.

I still can't quite believe it.

A glance at my bed and the clothes I have laid out, flip-flops included, lets me know that indeed it's about to happen. I picked out the Nala t-shirt with him in mind, just like always … picked out the black shorts, too, because I look pretty good in black. He might not see me, but that doesn't mean I don't want to look good for him either. Thus the reason for the extra dollop of peppermint-scented shampoo and the fact that I'm going to use the flat iron on my hair and then put it up in a ponytail.

Yeah, I might not know a whole lot about boys, and I might not have a whole lot of experience with anything like this, but I'm not stupid. I know Edward likes it when I wear my hair up, he has mentioned it a time or five or six, and I know my legs look good in a pair of shorts. I'm not a tease, well not too much of one and sure as hell not to anyone but him, but I'm also not going to lie and say I don't like knowing he likes to look at me.

Because I really, really do.

He makes me feel special, important, and really pretty.

Dressed, hair fixed, and toenails painted because they were looking a little ragged, I pace and think while keeping an eye on the clock. It's moving so slowly and I know watching is making time move even slower, but hell, I just want it to hurry up and be time already.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

I take a deep breath and stare at my fingers on the doorknob. It's a bit ridiculous to be this nervous about walking outside, but holy crap my heart feels like it's about to beat right out of my chest and fly up to the clouds. I'm not even going to see him when I go out there, but it still feels like going through this door is going to change everything.

What is it they say, when one door closes another one always opens? I might not be ready to close the door on my mom, I'm not sure I'll ever be, but I do know I'm ready to open another one that might lead me someplace else.

Someplace wonderful and scary and … right.

So with an admonishment to the now cat-sized butterflies in my stomach to chill out for a little bit, I turn the doorknob and walk out into the night. I look up to the sky as soon as I close the door behind me and find the moon first thing. Big and bright, a silvery ball that somehow always manages to make me smile. It may be hard to see here with all the clouds and rain, but when you can, it's so beautiful. It was hard to see it in Phoenix, though most every night was clear and free from clouds, but there were always so many lights.

My knees knock as I walk down the steps and then across the driveway and toward my building. Every hair on my body feels like it's standing on end, and I have the most insane urge to laugh. I walk closer, closer, my breath coming in short little choppy bursts of air. The cats inside my stomach have morphed into full-grown lions now, ready to roar as if I need a reminder they're there.

As soon as I pass my drum set, I suck in a sharp breath. Some noise comes out of my mouth, something that sounds a hell of a lot like a squeak and I stop. Electricity everywhere. Sparks of it fill the air and it's like there are millions of tiny fireworks exploding all around me.

_He's here._

Oh, God, he's really, really here.

Oh, shit, he's really, really here.

Edward.

And then, because it bubbles out of my throat before I can even think about it, I say his name out loud. "Edward."

Oh … I like the way that sounds.

I like it a lot.

"Bella."

I hear his voice for the first time and I have to close my eyes.

The warm desert air, the smell of cotton candy at Disneyland, the way my dad's flannel shirts felt against my cheek when I'd cuddle next to him on the couch, the sound of my mom humming when she worked on a project. Edward's voice is all that and about hundred other things.

Comfort.

Warmth.

Happiness.

Mine.

So, so, mine.

I giggle because this is, without a doubt, the strangest, most exhilarating thing that's ever happened to me and because well, he's here!

I move forward, though I'm not sure how my legs are functioning at this point, and sit against the wall. He has to be on the other side because the moment I get situated the sparks change into flames and the fireworks are now cannons.

Holy shit.

The smile on my face has to rival the Cheshire Cat's but damn if I can help it. I open my mouth, my throat's dry, so I clear it before I say, "Um … hi."

Brilliant, Bella.

Just brilliant.

"Hey."

Completely unable to stop myself, I sigh again. I can't even wrap my mind around what's happening right now. A few inches, maybe less than, I have no idea how thick the wall is, but it feels as thin as a piece of paper separating us. This moment, well the one that's come and gone already, it's the one that changes everything.

"You're here," I breathe out, still struggling with that fact.

He snorts and it's kind of adorable … well, it's really adorable actually. "I'm here almost every night, Bella. I'm just closer."

My name sounds like every beautiful song ever played and all I want to do is hear him say it again. So I ask him to do just that and he does. It's even better the second time. So good in fact that a soft sigh escapes once again and emotions I've never felt before spread through every part of my body like drops of ink in a bowl of water, filling every nook and cranny inside of me.

After the most ridiculous first conversation ever in the history of boys and girls, I seriously think that Edward must have some strange addiction to sugar cookies or the most developed sense of smell of anyone I've ever met. Especially when he mentions my peppermint shampoo.

It's incredibly cute.

"Your voice sounds exactly like you," I tell him slowly, though I'm not sure exactly how I know that's true. I know it is though. His voice is soothing and gentle and it's like warm hot fudge sauce poured over a brownie right out of the oven, the middle one, too, all gooey and delicious and mouthwatering … and if I'm completely honest, it's also hot as hell.

Red chili pepper hot.

Tingly, fluttery feelings in my stomach and farther down hot.

Keep me awake at night thinking of kisses and fingers and lips and tongues hot.

_Jesus._

"So does yours, though I heard it that day in the grocery store" he answers back after a moment.

I still can't believe he saw me there, and though it freaked me out just a little bit when he first told me he'd seen me in town, I suppose in the grand scheme of things, that's probably the most normal thing that's happened between us so far.

"I can't believe you saw me that day," I tell him.

"I can't believe I let you go that day."

_Oh my._

I close my eyes and try to imagine what my reaction would have been had he approached me that day, even for something as innocuous as to say a simple hello. Unfortunately, I have to admit that I probably would have run off in the other direction as fast as I could.

A lot can change in a few weeks.

Especially when notebooks and silly pens are involved.

What I want to say to him is _Thank you for finding me and deciding there was something worth taking a chance on_ … what I say instead is, "I'm so glad you're really here."

Listening to him say the word 'suck' makes me want to laugh. He sounds like such a boy. A super sweet, amazing and slightly strange boy, because let's face it, creeping through the woods almost every night and watching someone for hours is a tad weird no matter how you look at it … but a boy nonetheless.

But he's here, and that's really all that matters.

God, the urge to hop up and just peek around the corner is so strong. I mean one look, what could it hurt right? I wonder if he's really as okay with not talking face to face as he says he is.

"Can I ask you something?" The question slips out before I can close my mouth.

I smile when he says I can ask him anything, and file that away for future reference. Never know when that might come in handy down the road. Because there most definitely, assuredly is going to be a road. I hope a very long one.

When I start to ask him if it's as hard for him not to give in and just get the first meeting over and done with as it is for me, nothing comes out but a garbled half word, then another.

"Spit it out, Drummer Girl," he prods.

God, what that name does to me. He has no idea. None. The first time I saw that name written in his still way too pretty handwriting I thought I'd fall over. I love my name, but I've always been Bella.

Not Bells or Bell or Isabella, always just Bella.

Seeing Edward use Drummer Girl was unexpected and I liked it. I still do. It somehow makes it seem like it's something special between just the two of us, something he won't call anyone else but me. I like that, too.

"Is it as hard for you to wait to meet face to face as it is for me? Because I have to tell you, having you right here, this close, is making this whole decision to wait to meet seem really foolish."

It's such an unfair question, I know it is, and as soon as the words are out I kind of want to take them back … but I know I won't. I really want to know the answer, but only because I hate the thought of Edward being upset.

Thankfully, he's not, he just sounds as confused as I do. That makes me feel better, even though I'm not sure it should. And when we sit for minutes, and then a few more minutes listening to each other just breathe I know we made the right decision … at least I think that right now, because I still don't even want to think about telling him goodbye.

A few more minutes go by and the container on my lap sticks to the top of my leg. I decide to see if I can have a little fun with Edward and maybe test out that superpower sense of smell he has. Carefully, I pull up the lid and peel it off the storage bowl and even I have to give myself a second to let my eyes roll back in my head.

_Damn these cookies sure do smell delicious._

I can tell the second he smells the cookies because there's this low, rumbling sound that I doubt very seriously he even knows he makes. Holy crap is Edward ever fanatical about his sugar cookies.

"Bella," he begins and there's no doubt in my mind he's trying to keep a straight face, even if I can't see it. "Can I ask you a question now?"

I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing because, really, could he be any cuter? I feel like I'm about to melt like cheese over nachos.

"Yeaaaaaah?" I reply back. I have to sit on my hands because I have the most ridiculous urge to hold them against my cheeks. I have a feeling they'd be warm from blushing so badly.

"Did you by any chance, happen to make some more of your delicious sugar cookies, maybe as a going away present for little old me?"

And now, I'm like the inside of a s'more, an ooey, gooey mess of sappy, swoony, girly emotions. I've never felt like this, like laughing for no other reason than the boy of my dreams, before I even knew to dream of someone like Edward, wants my cookies.

When I tease him back, he demands I hand them over. Not one to want to make him suffer too much, because someone as obsessed as him probably shouldn't be tempted so much, I scoot the container toward the corner.

God, the urge to just lean over and look, super fast, is so strong. I mean, really what could blame me? As soon as the thought comes, I push it away though, because I know one look won't be enough. I'll want more and he needs to focus on soccer right now.

I push the cookies as far as I can, sort of around the corner and then I hear Edward when he pulls the lid off. The groan that rumbles through his chest makes me smile and it's worth the few hours it took to roll, bake, and frost each and every one.

"Oh, hell, Bella." He moans and it makes my toes curl.

I can't help but think about him saying those words about something very different than sugar cookies … but about something every bit as sweet.

First kisses are always supposed to be sweet, aren't they?

After, unsuccessfully I'm sure, admonishing Edward that he needs to share, he surprises me when he says, "I have something for you, too."

My breath hitches. I gulp, trying to force more air into my lungs, even though every time I open my mouth a sound comes out. I look down and watch as the edge of a clear plastic jewel case comes closer and then closer still. I watch my own fingers reach out, fingertips tingling like they've been holding an ice cold Coke for too long when suddenly, they're not cold anymore.

Well at least one's not, in fact it's very, very warm because now Edward has his index finger wrapped tightly around my index finger. His very long, perfect finger.

Holy mother of pearl.

Wow.

The sparks from before pale in comparison to what I'm feeling right this second. It's the final song at a concert, the big finish of a fireworks display, and the arrival of Santa Claus at the end of a Christmas Parade all rolled into one magical moment.

"Edward." It's all I can think to say, but really, it says everything.

He rambles. I smile because he's irresistible.

Like there's no point to even try to stop because it's impossible.

"Wow," he whispers, kind of shocked, but in the best kind of way.

I repeat his sentiment then reach for the CD. Letting go of him isn't easy and the second we're apart, I already miss the connection I feel to him.

"I made you a CD of me playing the piano," he tells me and my heart, it expands, more and more and more with each word he continues to speak, filling to overflowing with so much I can't even fathom it all.

He made a CD … _for me_ … of him playing … _for me_.

I try to take a breath, a very uneven one at that, and a sob escapes before I can close my mouth. I sniff as tears fill my eyes.

"Baby, no," he says and his voice shakes with what has to be the same emotions I'm feeling right now.

Awe.

Excitement.

Fear.

Love.

His hand reaches for me and I don't even hesitate. I slip my fingers between his and I'm flooded with a peace and contentment I'm not sure I've ever felt. His hand is so much bigger than mine, but it's like it's supposed to be that way. His hand is strong, and I feel safe … and wanted, and it's pretty damn wonderful.

Just like he is.

He explains what songs are on the CD and as I listen to his voice and his hand grips mine, I realize that even though my life is full of a lot of sadness and pain and loneliness, there's also a lot of good in it, too.

Being here, with him, like this, is about as close to perfect as we could get.

Face to face might be the icing on the cake, but just knowing that next step is coming soon, makes this moment right here, right now, that much sweeter. We sit for a long time, holding hands and just enjoying finally being close to each other.

It's nice.

Like I don't want to ever move or let him go nice.

I yawn. I try to stop it because I know when Edward hears it, that means he's going to leave. I sigh. There really aren't words for how much I'm not looking forward to that.

"Bella," he says slowly and my heart twists a little bit.

"You have to go," I answer back and lay my hand over my chest, because right now it feels like I can't breathe.

His notebook is still in my lap so I slide it toward him. He picks it up with his free hand and then gives me mine. I smile and laugh a little bit. We both got each other new notebooks. Apparently we both had the same idea that an almost month-long separation requires lots and lots of blank pages.

He makes me promise to write and email and text and knowing that we'll be connected so closely while he's away eases the ache in my chest enough to tell him, "I'm going to miss you, but I hope you and your parents and friends have fun. I know you're worried about camp, but I know you'll do great."

There's no way he'll be anything but amazing.

I'm not sure what will happen once he gets back or what exactly this thing between us will be when he does, but I do know for a fact that he'll knock them dead at camp.

I feel our hands lift in the air and then there's his lips on my skin and there's toe curling and heart racing and tummy dropping and heat and want and need spreading everywhere.

Our first kiss is going to be incredible.

And I want it. I want it so badly.

Soon.

"Promise me you'll call me if you need me, Bella. I mean it, please? If you need for anything, just call me, okay. I don't care what it is or what time it is, just promise me you'll call."

_Oh, Edward._

It's an easy promise to make. Silly boy. Doesn't he know he's not getting rid of me now? Like ever?

The goodbye takes a long time. Not that I mind and it helps knowing he doesn't want to leave anymore than I want him to. He has to, of course, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.

After making me promise, again, to call him if I need him, or Rose and Alice, I say, "Edward, I'll be fine. It's okay. It's really nice of them to want to help and all, but well …" I stop and take a deep breath before I can go on. "I can't wait to meet all your friends, but I don't want to see anyone until I can see you."

I so don't.

I'm not going to lock myself away, but I have plenty to keep me busy for the next few weeks. I have a song to finish after all, and I plan on doing just that. I'm not going to hide anymore, but there's no one I want to see more than him.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he says and his voice, God, his voice just washes over me and I don't ever want to move. I just want to stay right here and have him keep saying those sweet words in that perfect voice and never, ever stop.

"Soon," I tell him, meaning so much more than just a kiss.

It's a promise to try and hope and believe again and it's all because of him.

After another round of _see you laters_ , because like him, I don't really want to say goodbye and see ya soon sounds ever so much better, I lean my head back against the wall and listen as his footsteps get farther and farther away until they fade completely.

My insides feel like mush, my legs feel like Jell-O, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much and so big. I clutch the CD to my chest, anxious and nervous and so damn excited to hear him play for the first time. Notes and words are swimming in my head, fast and furious, so much so I almost miss the vibration of my phone.

I let out a high-pitched squeal, not caring in the least that I probably sound ridiculous. After all, who the hell is going to hear me and I just got my first text message from Edward … I'm allowed a squeal or two I think.

I sigh at his first message. I giggle at his second.

Without hesitating I answer back.

_I miss you, too, but you'll be back soon. And the shirt … Nala tonight. Does that make you my Simba? Kick ass, Edward. I know you'll do great. B~_

I head toward the house and turn and look out into the forest before I open the door. I hope the next few weeks go fast because I really want him to kiss me.

 _Soon_ , I think as I open the door.

I like the sound of that.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**These two own every little piece of my heart, I hope they do yours, too. Okay, we're off to camp next time. Think Edward eats all of his cookies before he even makes it to Seattle?**

**Just a bit of clarification because some of you have asked: E and the boys are leaving a week early to go on a surprise trip with Carlisle and Esme for Edward's birthday. Camp is right after, then IF Edward gets held over, he'll be gone an extra week, so there's a possibility he will be gone almost a month.**

***I'm not updating over the weekend. My laptops's been out of commission for the past few days and I need to catch up a bit. Besides, it's Mother's Day and I hope I spend the day being pampered, as I wish the same for all of you!**

**Keep talking to me, I love hearing which parts are your favorite!**

**See you tomorrow …**


	46. Buzz Lightyear

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

***sigh* You guys love Bella as much as I do … and as much as Edward does! I can't even begin to tell you how happy that makes me! Thanks for all the love this week. It's been truly wonderful, just like all of you!**

**Okay, our boy's at camp, let's see how he's doing shall we?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 46 - Buzz Lightyear -** _**Toy Story 2** _

**He's on a mission!**

"Yellow, number 18," the center ref calls as he raises his hand with the stupid yellow rectangle in his stupid hand.

I turn without a word, my jaw so tight I know I'm going to have a headache, not that I won't have one from that fucker's elbow anyway.

"Cullen!"

"Fuck," I mutter angrily when Coach calls me from the sideline. I see red when I notice that asshole Matt Baker standing at the center stripe next to the line referee.

"Sub." The center whistles and waves Matt onto the field.

I wonder if I can get away with tripping the dickhead. He saunters past me, whispering a smug, "Enjoy your breather, Cullen," as he goes by.

Jasper gives me a look, which I ignore, and stalk off the field and throw myself down on the bench. I rest my elbows on my legs and hang my head, sweat dripping down my face and the sun beating against my back, but I don't pay much attention.

_God damn motherfucking sonofabitch bastard_

A shadow falls over me and I take a deep breath before raising my head. I know Coach is going to have smoke coming out of his ears when I look up. I lift. Oh yeah … smoke, lots and lots of smoke … eyes narrowed, arms crossed, and he's so mad his face is practically purple.

Fuck me.

"You mind telling me what in the world is the matter with you today?" he bites out angrily. He's so pissed, he doesn't even raise his voice. That's never a good thing. I cringe because I know I fucked up, big time.

He stands in front of me, just waiting for me to argue with him, but I won't. I can't. This is all on me.

"Edward." He sighs after an excruciating few minutes of making me squirm. He takes a seat beside me and tells our assistant coach to take over for a few minutes. "Now, what in the hell is going on with you?"

We're playing the first game of the day and it couldn't be more different from the one I played last night. In that one I was on fucking fire. Everything was perfect: perfect passes, perfect headers, two perfect goals … it was one of the best games I've ever played in my life. This morning, it's like I'm running through quicksand with my shoes untied and I couldn't hit the broadside of a barn if I was standing right in front of it.

Camp has gone well. Really, really well as a matter-of-fact. Our team's performed at the top of our game when it's really counted. The workouts have been hard, exhausting, but after every session I feel like I did the best I could. I've heard some of the coaches talking and my name's been brought up more than a few times. At night during the showcase games, I always get to start, and I always get to play the entire ninety minutes. My free kicks have been rock solid and I've even managed to impress myself a few times with some of my shots on goal.

All in all, I'm really happy with the way things have gone so far … up until right now that is.

"Did you see that guy? He was all over me, Coach, and then that stupid ref didn't even call it. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do?" I throw my arms up in the air and look at him, daring him to argue with me.

"What you're supposed to do is act like the Captain of this team and keep your head, Cullen. You're lucky all you got was a yellow card and not a red for that blatant foul, or else your ass would be sitting the bench tonight, and you and I both know you can't afford that. Especially not tonight."

"Fucking hell," I mutter and hang my head again.

There's a few beats of very heavy and very awkward silence. "Sorry," I tell him quietly when I look up at him and his eyebrows raise. He usually lets the bad language go, up to a point … and I've already past it and then some.

"Edward," he begins and his voice has changed again and it almost makes me feel worse.

I'm aggressive and intense when I play, I always have been, but I usually keep my cool, mostly anyway.

"It won't happen again," I tell him and take a deep breath.

My entire body is tense, and I feel like I'm just about to explode if something doesn't give. I am lucky the refs have let us pretty much just play so far because even I know that call should have been a red and not a yellow. Jesus. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot.

"Look, I know you're nervous about the game tonight, but you really don't need to be. You've got this, trust me. You've worked hard and it shows. You've got talent and the coaches can all see that. So you had a bad game, it's not the end of the world, but you can't let a few shoves in the back …"

I huff and he grunts but keeps going. "A few shoves in the back and an elbow or two in the gut get to you so badly. Pressure's a part of life, Edward, and a part of playing this game. If you want this, and I know you do, you need to be able to handle this better."

"I know," I answer him back quietly.

All I want is for this game to be over so I can go take a shower and maybe call Bella. I need to hear her voice.

"Now, drink some water and I'll put you back in," he says as he stands up. "One more foul though, and you'll sit the bench for the rest of the game, and you won't start tonight either, got me?"

I nod.

My mind's moving at about a hundred miles an hour but I try to take a few deep breaths and clear it, just enough to get me through the rest of the game. I stand up and drink some water. I bend over and stretch, not that I really need to since I didn't sit long enough for my muscles to get tight and it's not the least bit cool out, but the movement helps me to focus. I look up and scan the field, watching my team move the ball up the field and I start to bounce on my feet. My fingers twitch and I can feel the adrenaline starting to flow again.

I'm ready to go back in.

The rest of the game finishes on a high note, a set piece that resulted in a beautiful pass to Jasper that he headed into the goal.

"You okay?" Jasper asks after we shake hands with the other team and walk back toward our bench.

I shrug and do some sort of half nod shake of my head thing because at this point I don't really know how I am, besides missing and needing Bella.

"Coach mad?"

I sit on the bench and push my socks down and undo my shin guards, feeling the breeze cool the sweat that's gathered along my legs. "Disappointed more than anything," I tell him and cringe because that's a hell of a lot worse than if he's pissed at me.

In the grand scheme of things, the card isn't that big of a deal, and besides the asshole deserved the elbow for hanging all over my back like he was. Though, if Jasper wouldn't have pushed his way between us, I know I would've hit the guy. The urge was there. I'd been fighting it since the first whistle to just do something to release all the pent up energy I have inside and his face would have made an excellent outlet because kicking the ball wasn't doing it for me.

"Edward," Jasper says as he sighs.

Emmett sits down beside me and thumps me on the back just once and then he's up again, but not before raising his eyebrows to check on me. I give him a quick nod and then he's off to talk to Coach.

I finish taking all my gear off and slide my bare feet into slip-on sandals and hike my soccer bag onto my shoulder. "Jas, chill, okay? I've just got a lot on my mind; it's no big deal."

He gives me a level stare and I roll my eyes and smirk a little bit. It'd be really fucking nice to be able to bullshit him … just once, but now's not the time apparently. "Okay, fine, tonight's a big deal. I'm just …" I shift from foot to foot and run a hand through my damp hair.

He gives me a slap on the back, though from him I don't feel like his hand's going to come out the other side like it does from Emmett. "Take your own advice, my friend, and chill. You've got this. Everyone knows this … everyone but you, apparently."

I snort, and say nothing. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of telling him he's right again.

He nudges me with his knee and then stands up. "Call Bella; you'll feel better. And tell her I said hi." He grins as he walks off and I see him reach for his phone, texting Alice I'm sure.

Gotta say, it's really fucking nice to have my own someone to talk to for a change.

We have to meet with Coach to go over some plays for tonight's game so I don't have time to call, but I do have time to send a quick text.

_You know what would be fucking awesome right now? Sugar cookies_.

I make it about four steps before there's a message back. Nice. I wonder if that means she was thinking about me?

_Will any do or do you mean mine?_

I snort and roll my eyes. As if there could be anyone else's anything … ever.

_Of course yours. World Peace DG, I'm not kidding. I really want some now damn it_

_You always want sugar cookies Edward. Any particular shape? How was the game?_

_Only yours_ , I tap out immediately and try to ignore the twisty turny thing that still happens all the damn time. I huff when I think about the game and the foul and tell her, _got any_ _drumsticks? I could use them to beat some sense into my dumb ass_

_Ouch guess that answers my ? about the game. You ok?_

I am, for the most part anyway, and I don't want her to worry so I answer, _Yeah, I'm fine just one of those days I guess. Gotta get to team mtg but can I call you later?_

Her answer is immediate.

_Of course. Maybe I can beat some sense into you long distance?_

I laugh because my girl's all kinds of fucking awesome. I feel better already.

_I should prob let you after today. I'll call before the next game … later baby_

_later xoxoxo_

And now, cue the twisty turny thing again. Plus, three hugs and three kisses … I usually only get two. I like it.

I make sure my phone's on silent and then drop it into my bag before taking my seat in the locker room. We have another training session in the afternoon and then I shower before dinner, knowing as soon as I'm done, I'm going to spend a few minutes on the phone with Bella.

"I'll catch up with you guys in a little bit," I tell Em and Jasper when I grab my bag and put my warm-up jacket on over my practice shirt.

"Say hey to Bella, loverboy." Emmett snickers. I flip him off before I head out of the cafeteria and toward the quad.

The University of Oregon campus is really nice, not that I've had a lot of time to look around. We get up at the asscrack of dawn, eat breakfast, train, play the first match of the day, eat lunch, train again, dinner, then another game, so there hasn't been much time for sightseeing. I find an empty bench and throw my bag on the ground before slouching against the back and stretching my legs out in front of me.

There aren't a lot of students out at this time of night, and I guess the summer sessions are always less crowded than the regular fall and spring semesters. I look at the few people I do see walking around and try to picture myself a few months later than this only next year, and I wonder where I'll be. I know where I want to go to school, but there's a lot still left to decide before I make any of those kinds of decisions. A lot can happen to change where I end up: what happens tonight, what happens if I get held over, what Bella's going to do, what happens with her mom.

It might be kind of crazy to already be thinking in terms of after high school and include Bella in that picture, seeing as how we haven't even so much as gone on a first date yet, not to mention that whole she doesn't even know what I look like thing, but I know what I want, and I want her.

All of her.

All day, every day for a really, really long fucking time.

I've needed to step back a bit these past few weeks no matter how much I didn't want to. If tonight goes like I hope it will, then it was worth it, but once I get back and we start school, there's not going to be anymore holding back.

The trip to Seattle was fun, not gonna lie. My parents took us to a Sounders game one night, my dad took me and the guys to a Mariner's game the next night (Phil was not pitching, thank goodness because that would have been just plain weird) and then the night after that, Em, Jas, and I got to go see the UFC fight. It was fucking awesome. Mom and Dad had arranged with Ali's and Rose's parents to let the girls come up for the rest of the week so we could all hang out by the pool at the hotel and go to Six Flags. It was a lot of fun, but it made me miss Bella so much. Seeing them all together and knowing that Bella was home alone was like torture, and I vowed never again.

It's a promise I intend to keep.

She's been amazing the whole time I've been gone, which literally feels like for fucking ever. We've emailed every day, sometimes just a short hello and sometimes long, long messages where I find out new things about her and she finds out more about me, more than I'd probably like her, too, but I can't help myself. Last names have been shared, which wasn't too hard to figure out since her email address is an unoriginal bellaswan at gmail and my ecullen18 at yahoo isn't any better. I didn't have much choice about telling her mine because she asked if my dad was Dr. Cullen. Apparently he's been by her house check on her mom while I've been gone.

I've written to her every night I've been away; in fact, my notebook's almost full. It definitely will be by the time I get home, and sending text messages has become my new favorite thing to do … well, besides think about her of course.

But I always do that, so nothing new there, unless you count the fact that now that I've touched her, kissed her … albeit just the back of her hand, but still it was lips against skin so it totally counts as a kiss … been close enough to tell that yes, indeed, she smells even better than sugar cookies, my thoughts aren't always so sweet. In fact, some are downright dirty. Part of me feels a little guilty for thinking of Bella that way, but then I think about the way her voice sounds all raspy and breathless, and with that soft, lilting accent that comes out when she doesn't even know it, and I can't help myself. Her voice, her body, her face … just _her_ , from her toes all the way up to the top of her head drives me fucking insane and all I can do sometimes is think about seeing her naked, kissing every inch of her body, and wrapping those sexy as hell legs around my waist while I fuck her up against the wall of her building, or bent over the arm of her loveseat, or my favorite fantasy, spread out on the hood of her fuckhot car.

I'm a guy - hot girls and hot cars is always a winning combination.

Even though thinking about Bella that way always makes me hard, honestly what gets me going even more is just talking to her, so I pull my phone out of my bag and hit the speed dial, #1, for her number. My knee bounces as the phone rings and as soon as I hear, "Hello," a huge smile breaks out over my face and once again, all is right in my world.

"Hey. So, are my cookies done yet?"

"Oh, you meant you wanted some today?" she teases and I immediately forget what I'm supposed to be worried about as soon as I hear her giggle.

"I told you, Bella, I want some every day."

"It's a good thing you have to run while you play soccer or else you'd have a problem on your hands."

I groan a little bit at the mention of soccer and my nerves start again. "Yeah, good thing," I say sort of absently, thoughts of the imminent game settling heavily over me.

"Hey, what's wrong? Tell me what happened at the game this morning," she says softly and I sigh, but tell her what happened. Saying it out loud to her makes it sound even more stupid than it was at the time, but she doesn't make me feel that way. "Edward, you're allowed to have an off day, you know? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I know." I huff and pick at the peeling paint on the bench, and watch as I flick the flakes off with my fingernail. I'm trying to put into words what's really bothering me, but as has become increasingly clear, Bella knows me almost too well already.

"You're worried about the game tonight, aren't you?" I nod and then roll my eyes at my dumb ass because duh, she can't see me, but it doesn't matter because she goes on. She already knows the answer is yes anyway. "And that guy, the one you told me about, he's on the team you're playing, right?" Again, she already knows the answer.

"Bella, this game tonight is everything." I groan and slouch on the bench even more and tip my head back to look at the sky streaked with pinks and grays as the sun begins to set.

"Um, no, it's really not," she says softly, but very, very surely.

I open my mouth to argue with her and tell her she doesn't understand, but before I can get a word out she goes on. "I know you're nervous and it makes sense you are, but you can't treat this game any differently than you would any other game. You just need to go out there and do your thing, and not worry about who's watching or what they're saying about you."

"But," I begin but she cuts me off.

"But nothing, Edward. I might not have ever seen you play, which I'm dying to do by the way." With that the twisty turny thing is like a rollercoaster full of loop de loops and I feel warm all over because I want that, too. So, so much. I can't wait to share that part of myself with her.

"But I know you're ready for this. And that guy, the one you think is so much better than you …" She kind of growls and I like the way she sounds all fierce and protective and shit. I like it a lot. "He's not."

She says it so matter-of-fact, so sure, that I feel kind of stupid for even thinking of doubting her.

I get lost in my head for a few moments, thinking of the game and the coaches that are going to be watching and all the things I've heard about David Rivera and seen with my own eyes. The guy's good. He's really good, but as I try to be objective about it, I know he's not any better than me. We may play the same position and be trying to win the same spot on the same team, but that doesn't mean I can't beat him. Besides, they haven't even picked the team yet; tonight's announcement is just to let us know who's being held over to be looked at. The really hard work comes next week … if I'm still here.

"Fine, maybe he's not," I concede slowly and I can practically see her nodding her head and giving me a look. Obviously she's never given me a _look_ before thanks to the no seeing each other before I left for camp thing, but she's a girl … and all girls have the look.

I have a mom and she gives my dad the look all the time. Ali gives it to Jasper, and Rose … good God, the poor girl's eyes are going to permanently stay that half narrowed half glare thing she gives Emmett if she's not careful because she uses it so much. Not that the idiot doesn't deserve it, but Rose is too pretty to be stuck looking like that forever.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, feeling a hundred times better just from talking to her. It's not that she's told me anything I didn't really already know myself, but hearing her tell me that I can do what I need to do helps more than I can tell her. I do say softly, "Thanks, baby. I needed that."

"Well, I can't beat you over the head with drumsticks from here, but I can talk to you if you need me. I'm glad I could help, now, are you ready to kick some ass and take names?" She giggles and it's the best fucking sound in the world … next to her saying my name that is.

"Yep, I'm ready. So tell me about your day, what did you do?" I ask, needing to forget about soccer for just a few minutes.

I listen as she tells me what she's done and I have to tease when she talks about going outside to play for a little bit. "Better make sure my song's perfect … you were practicing it, right?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she sasses right back and I know she's enjoying the torture she's putting me through. Evil, evil tease that she is.

I fucking love it, too, which she very surely knows.

We talk for a few more minutes until I look down at my watch and realize I need to be at the field in ten minutes.

"I gotta go. Thanks for knocking some sense into me," I tell her as I stand up and pick up my bag.

"Well, if you need someone to beat you over the head, I'm your girl." She laughs and I stop walking, curling my fingers around my phone.

"Damn straight you are." I take a deep breath and I smile when I hear her breathing a little faster on the other end. "I miss you," I tell her, but my heart says, _I love you._

And, God, do I ever. Every day it's more and more and more.

"I miss you, too," she says as she sighs. "Being outside isn't the same when you're not there." Fuck me if I don't love hearing that.

"Soon, Bella. Soon."

Soon can't come fucking soon enough.

"Soon."

"I'll text you when I'm done and let you know how it went, okay?"

"You've got this, Edward. You can do it, I know you can. Now kick their asses, got it?"

"Got it."

I hear her breathe and it sort of wraps around me and fills me up. "I wish I was there to cheer you on."

And because she makes me feel things I've never even imagined I tell her, "You're always with me." I look up and I'm at the locker room. I have no idea how I managed to get here without paying attention, but now that I'm here, I can feel my muscles tense and my blood start pumping.

It's time to do what I came here to do.

"Okay, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye."

I take a deep breath as I stare at the door, letting the adrenaline spread and take a few minutes to clear my mind.

"You can do this, Edward," I tell myself before I push open the door.

A few hours later I send Bella a text, _Soon's gonna have to wait a little longer baby cause I'm staying another week! XOXO! E_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, you all knew he was going to make it, right? Don't worry about our girl, she can hang in there just a little longer. We'll see what she's been up to while her boy's been away, I think you might be surprised.**

**No pic tease later, but we'll be back on Sunday!**

**Hope everyone who's a mom, who has a mom, who's a step-mom, Grandmother, or a mother-figure to a special someone, has a most wonderful Mother's Day. We have a hard job to do, but it's one I wouldn't trade for anything! Hope all of you have a day full of love and hugs and kisses … there isn't anything better!**

**I need to say it again, thank you all so much for the love this week! My heart's been so full and it's all because of each of you!**

**See you Monday!**


	47. Mrs. Potts

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**I hope everyone had a great weekend! Okay, we're going to start the week off with Bella.**

**Let's see how our Drummer Girl is faring without her Creeper …**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 47 - Mrs. Potts -** _**Beauty and the Beast** _

**Mrs. Potts is kind and consoling, but can be stern when the situation calls for her to be. She is very motherly.**

**A little more than a week after Edward leaves for camp …**

"Hey, Bella, I was thinking about making chicken parmesan for dinner. Does that sound good?" Maggie asks as she pokes her head into Mom's room.

I look from the book I'm holding in my lap, the one that I haven't turned a page on in more than fifteen minutes truth be told. My mind's definitely not on Elizabeth and her Mr. Darcy today.

"Sure, that sounds great," I tell her, my stomach suddenly making itself known at the mention of Maggie's chicken parm - it's to die for. "Do we still have any of the bread left from yesterday?" I ask before she can turn away.

"We sure do," she answers with a knowing smile.

We've been cooking and baking a lot together this week, trying out some new recipes. It's been fun, if not a little bittersweet. Mom loved to bake. Cooking wasn't really her thing, not that she was horrible at it, but she really loved to bake. I like that cooking and baking makes me feel closer to her somehow, instead of like moving on without her.

The day after Edward left, I promised myself that I would use the time he was gone to really try to be ready to do more than just _be_. I want to _do_.

For him, because of him … I want to do.

She starts to walk off, but I call her back. "Hey, Mag?" She looks back, eyes widened in question. "How about we sit outside on the deck? It's a nice night out."

If eyeballs could fall out of heads like they do in cartoons, Maggie's would be on the floor and rolling away, all the way out the door right now.

"Ah, sure, sweetie, that sounds really nice." She stands still and gazes at me, and I know she's trying to figure out what I've done with her Bella … or maybe she's wondering if I've been taken over by an alien. Whatever she's searching for, she obviously doesn't find because she waits just one more moment before turning around again and going down the hall toward the kitchen.

I close the book and look across at the hospital bed. The low hum of machines hooked up to keep a constant record of Mom's blood pressure and pulse fills the room as always, as does the aura of sickness. No matter how many times the windows are opened or how many candles are lit in the room, the scent never goes away. I sometimes wonder if I'll always smell it.

"Okay, Mom, that's enough of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth for today. I'll be back in a little bit. It's about time Maggie and I have a nice long talk," I whisper, and wince a bit at the twist of my stomach and the sharp pang of longing in my heart. "Love you, Mom, so much."

I bend down to kiss her papery thin cheek that's soft like it's always been, but the sunken skin and ashen color is a stark reminder that though she still looks like my mom, in most ways at least, the mom I remember is long gone.

I make my way to the kitchen and step beside Maggie. Seamlessly we get dinner ready; chatting a little while the heady aroma of tomato and garlic wafts through the kitchen making my mouth water. Since I've lifted my self-imposed exile and started spending more time out of my room … and Mom's room, I've found that Maggie's a lot of fun to be around. She loves to sing while she cooks, she watches every reality show on TV she can find and talks about the people on them as if they're her long-lost best friends – she watches so many it's next to impossible to keep track of them all. I usually just nod and respond every few minutes while she goes on and on about what Kim is doing and how that Adam is a nice-looking young man. She's been trying to get me to agree to let her teach me how to knit, which I have to say looks pretty relaxing, but I don't want to tell her that. She loves to play Bejeweled on the computer and she always has a pencil tucked behind her ear because she's forever making lists. Lists of what I have no idea, but she's constantly writing stuff down.

All of which makes her a pretty wonderful woman and one that I've come to appreciate a great deal.

Once the food's done, we fix our plates, grab the basket of the bread we baked yesterday, our drinks, and take everything outside. The sun's just begun to set making the sky a soft lavender color that's streaked with blues and pinks. The day's been clear and warm making it so that sitting outside in shorts and a t-shirt is comfortable. Crickets chirp, there's a very gentle breeze, and I can't help but wonder if the night's as nice in Eugene and whether or not Edward's enjoying it as much as I am.

Thinking of him causes me to grab my phone, the one that's never out of reach these days, and flip it over to see if there's a message from him. I huff when there's not and flip it back over.

When I look up, Maggie's studying me, closely … too close judging by the tightness of her mouth and the slight narrowing of her eyes.

Shit.

I sigh, figuring it's about time to get this out of the way. We've been avoiding it all week. Ever since Edward left, I know she's noticed the way I carry my phone with me everywhere I go. Up until he started texting me, I'd get a text or two from Phil a day, maybe, and every now and then some forward that one of my friends from Phoenix sent. Now, it's like it's permanently attached to my fingers and she's caught me more than once typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention writing in my notebook.

So, yeah, this conversation has been a long time coming.

"Have you met a new friend?" she asks as she cuts her chicken.

The smile that spreads across my face when I think of Edward speaks for itself. A new friend … a best friend. I gasp, slapping a hand over my mouth at the sudden realization. Of course he's my best friend; I wonder if he knows that? My hands start fluttering, the need to tell him, to let him know that besides all the other stuff, like the fact that he's the most amazing person I've ever met in my life and makes me feel all warm and squishy inside, that he truly is my best friend.

Maggie reaches over and places her hand on top of mine to still it. "Okay, now what's going on? You look like you're about to jump out of your skin, and don't think I haven't noticed that you've smiled more this past week than you have in the entire time I've known you. Talk to me, Bella."

I take a deep breath as I look at her and I can see how much she cares about me … and not because she's being paid to do so, but because she honestly and truly does. She may have been brought into my life in the most horrible circumstance imaginable, but there's no denying how good of a person she is.

Besides, I need to talk to someone … like really, really badly.

"Yeah, I have a new friend." I can't help but press my free hand against my stomach to try to calm the riot of butterflies currently bouncing around inside just from the thought of Edward.

"That's great, Bella! Where did you meet her? What's her name? Why don't you have her come over? When do I get to meet her?" she asks excitedly. I feel bad for a brief moment because she's so excited for me … I've made her so worried for so long.

"Um," I begin as I try to figure out how to word what I need to say. "It's not a she, it's a he." With that her eyebrows lift to her hairline. "His name is Edward."

The breathy way his name comes out can't even be helped because finally being able to say his name out loud is so nice.

"He, ah … well, he can't come over because he's away right now, soccer camp, but he's, well … he's been here, but not here inside the house here," I clarify but from the confused look on her face I can tell I'm not making any sense as I keep rambling. I tend to do that when I'm nervous. Right now, with Maggie's mouth pursed and her hand continuing its pat pat on top of mine, I'm not sure I've ever been so nervous … so as I'm apt to do, I speed through the rest, the most important part. "And well … you see, I've never, what I mean is, I've talked to him, but um … I've never actually, ah … um, met him."

I puff my cheeks and blow out a large, cleansing breath, so happy to have that out of the way.

At least I was until Maggie asked the one question I'd been dreading but knew was coming. "How exactly is he your friend if you've never met him? I don't understand."

So, I start from the beginning, cringing when her mouth opens and her jaw hits the table. I keep going though, and tell her all of it. Slowly but surely her mouth closes, though her grip on my hand tightens. She doesn't look exactly upset, but she sure as hell isn't smiling either.

I guess I can't blame her because even I got a little freaked out describing everything that's happened over the past weeks. How this ever managed to turn out as perfectly as it did, I'll never know, but it doesn't matter now, anyway.

I got the guy … and he's perfect and wonderful, and even if it doesn't make sense to anyone else, it makes sense to the two of us.

She continues to look at me, the silence weighted and tense before she leans back just a bit. Her shoulders relax and she tilts her head.

"Bella Swan, I don't know whether to shake you for doing something so dangerous, or give you a hug for finally doing something for yourself for a change." She huffs, but when the corners of her mouth lift, I know that while she's a bit peeved at me, she's not really all that mad, so I grin back at her and push my luck, just a little bit.

"Hugs are always good, Maggie. I'm too big to shake anyway."

"Don't sass me, little girl," she says with a sigh and I know she'll be okay. She takes a drink of her iced tea and stares off in the direction of the backyard. I don't think she's really taking in the picturesque scenery, so I don't say anything while she's obviously figuring out what to say to me.

"You've been so different for weeks now, I knew something had happened. This," she grunts with a wave of her hand between us and in the general direction of my phone, "isn't even close to what I thought it was, but I can't deny that you are most definitely not the same girl that moved here the beginning of summer."

"Edward's been a really good friend," I say quietly, but surely, and meaning it with my whole heart. The boy might make my insides rock and roll, but beneath all the flirting and CDs and cookies and silly pens, we're friends, best friends, first and foremost. I know he has Jasper and Emmett, and even Alice and Rose, but I know what we share is different from what he gives them. I don't know how I know, I just do.

She sighs again and shifts a little in her seat like she's trying to get comfortable because what she's about to say is liable to be anything but. "Bella," and the way she says my name I know it's not going to be anything I want to hear. "I'm not your mother, I'm not even family, but I love you as much as if you were my own and have almost from the moment Phil asked me to take care of you as well as Renée. I know you're almost eighteen but you have to know how incredibly dangerous what you did truly was. I can't even begin to think what Phil would say if he knew how you've been spending your nights, well early mornings, for the past month and a half." She shakes her head a little bit, as if trying to keep herself from saying something she's not sure she should say. "I hate to ask this when you seem so happy, but are you even sure this Edward is really who you think he is?"

I want to huff and slap my hands down on the table and tell her it's none of her damn business, and as sad as it is to say, two months ago I probably would have done just that, but instead I breathe in and out through my nose. I cringe and I get so mad at myself when I think about how closed-off I was just a few short months ago, refusing to talk to anyone, and wallowing as if I was the only one affected by what happened to my mom. Never mind Phil, who lost his wife and the love of his life. It was all about me, me, me.

Ugh.

I roll my eyes at her and say, "I know this all seems incredibly strange, and I suppose it is, but give me some credit, Mag. I Googled the Forks High Soccer team as soon as he told me his number and saw his name in the search, along with his best friends, whose names he also told me."

"So," she pokes the back of my hand and grins at me, "what does he look like, is he cute?"

And just like that, she's doing exactly what I need her to do. I get where she's coming from, and to be really honest, it's nice to know she just wants me to be okay, but I need to talk. "I don't know, I didn't look at the picture of the team. The page was loading and it was just about to come up, but before it did, I closed it."

"Bella! Why? Don't you want to know what he looks like?" she asks and I scoff because want to know doesn't even come close.

Ache.

Need.

Crave.

And even those don't really convey just how much I want it.

"Of course I do." I huff, frustrated because I don't even know if I can explain this so that it makes sense. "At first, it was kind of exciting, you know, not knowing what he looked like. I could make up this picture in my mind based on the things he told me and the way he described himself. Then as we talked more, it was almost like knowing what he looked like was almost too much. I'd told him all about Mom and Phil and Dad, but there was still that little barrier, that little piece that still let me hide."

My voice becomes softer and I reach for my phone and curl my fingers around it, feeling closer to Edward somehow because now, he's only the push of a button away … or a tap on the screen I suppose. "And once Phil left and I finally stopped thinking about only myself and I really started talking to Edward, it was almost time for him to leave for camp and he was so worried about not being ready that I couldn't distract him, no matter how much I wanted it. I could Google him, I could look on the Forks High website and find him, but when I see him for the first time, I want it to be him and me and not through a computer screen. I want to see his eyes and the crazy bronze-colored hair he keeps complaining about. I want to see him smile and know that when he looks at me, he sees the Bella I want to be."

"Oh, sweetie." She sniffs and then wipes beneath her eyes with the tips of her fingers. "Do you care what he looks like? I mean what if he has a crooked nose or bad teeth or wears that horrible black eyeliner every day?" I think she's teasing but my answer's serious.

"You might not believe this, but I don't care." She tilts her head and arches one eyebrow indicating that she doesn't believe me. "I really don't. Don't get me wrong, if he's cute, and I'm almost positive cute doesn't even come close, that's just icing on the cake. He's beautiful inside, and he makes me feel that way, too; that's what matters more than anything."

I could feel embarrassed about gushing like that, but I don't. I mean every word.

"Well, please tell me you at least looked at his last name!" She laughs.

I nod and take a drink of my ice water. "I did, but he told me anyway. It's Cullen, Edward Cullen."

Maggie gasps and then coughs because apparently she's swallowed her tongue for some reason.

"Did you say Cullen?" she asks, eyes wide and watering and her mouth open. I nod and her grin rivals the cat that swallowed the canary. "Oh, dear, I'd say you don't have anything whatsoever to worry about when it comes to your Edward."

I must look at her like she's lost her ever-loving mind which only makes her laugh harder. "Sweetie, I might be old, but I'm not blind. His dad's a doctor I bet." When I tell her yes she gets this dreamy look on her face. "I've met Dr. Cullen when I had to talk with him about your mom's case. Girl, the man is the epitome of a hottie. If your Edward looks anything like his father, you are one very, very lucky girl."

Your Edward … _My Edward_ … oh, I like the sound of that.

I like it a whole hell of a lot.

We chat for a few more minutes, and then she gets up and takes the dishes back into the kitchen, telling me to go ahead and text him because I look like I'm about to go crazy.

I turn the phone around in my hands a few times, thinking about the conversation Maggie and I just had, and I'm really glad that everything's out in the open now. Talking about it makes it seem almost more real in a way. Of course I didn't tell her everything. After all, a girl's gotta have some secrets, right?

Needing to talk to him in the worst way, I type out a quick message, relishing in the fact that being able to talk to him whenever … well, when he's not busy anyway, pretty much kicks ass.

_Just wanted to say hi. How did the game go?_

I have no idea if he's done yet, but I giggle and let out the girliest sigh when he sends a message right back. I'm so crazy about him it's not even funny.

_I was just thinking about u! It was good I started and played the whole game so that's good. I'm tired as fuck though. How was ur day?_

I snort at the curse word, only because I sometimes wonder if he even realizes how often he does it. I don't think it should turn me on as much as it does either, but it always does something to me. He's so sweet most of the time, I can't help but really, _really_ like when a little bad boy slips in.

_Are u done for the night? Day was fine … spent some time with my drums today and had a nice dinner w/ Maggie. Told her about u_

I hope he's not drinking anything when he sees that message, because he's liable to spit it all out. Poor boy.

_Ohhh, and just what were u practicing? Bet I know ;) Told her everything ...do I even want to know how that went_

_It was fine … she said ur dad was a hottie though, is he?_

_Ugh, Bella! I can't believe u asked me that! Just no, ok? And jsyk … I'm way hotter than he is. He's old._

And there's the Creeper I know.

_Hmmm, well I suppose I'll have to see you both and judge for myself_

_Soon baby and I can't fucking wait. I gotta go. I'll send an email later, k? I miss you xoxo_

Soon … I sigh. I really freaking hope so.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

Date: Wednesday, 15 August, 2012 10:43:17

From: Bella Swan bellaswan at gmail . com

To: Edward Cullen ecullen18 at yahoo . com

_Edward,_

_So you remember last week and we were talking about your dad? Um, can I just say that your dad is_ _ not _ _old and I'm thinking Maggie's right about the whole Dr. Cullen's a hottie thing._

_I met him today. He came by to check on Mom and to discuss a few things with Maggie. He's so nice, Edward, you're very lucky. And ah … you know when you called earlier and I didn't answer? That's when he was here. Well, he heard the phone ring and mentioned that it was your favorite song, so, yeah, talk about a little awkward. I didn't know what to say! I couldn't exactly say 'well, you know, Dr. Cullen, the entire month you were gone he sort of spent most every night standing outside watching me until all hours of the morning', now could I?_

_Do you ever think about how you'll tell them we know each other? Or will you even do that?_

_I don't want them to think badly of me … although I guess you were the watcher and I was the watchee so maybe I'm good. Who knows?_

_He's really great, Edward, and so, so nice. It's been such a long time since a doctor talked to me like I was a person and really cared about what I was feeling. He gave me a lot to think about, but he did it in a way that wasn't hurtful or that made me feel like he was wasting his time by talking to me._

_How was your day? Was the game good tonight? I'm sure you did great. How are Emmett and Jasper doing? I laughed at the forwarded email you sent earlier from Alice. I think I'm really going to like your friends, I just hope they like me. It's been a long time since I've had to meet so many new people._

_I'm nervous but really excited, too, and of course I'll have you and that's really all I need._

_I miss you._

_I still go outside every night, but it's just not the same without you here. I still feel you, though, and I like that … a lot, but it's still not as good as having you close by._

_I hope things are going well for you, Edward. I know how hard you've worked and how much you want this. And no matter what you say, I know I've kept you from being as focused as you've probably needed to be. I feel bad about that but I can't lie and say I'm not really happy about the way things have turned out. Who would've thought it, huh?_

_Just goes to show you what can happen when you take a chance on something, right?_

_Anyway, I need to go shower and stuff … It'll be time to go outside soon. The moon's bright tonight, I like thinking about us looking at it at the same time, makes it seem like you're not so far away._

_Night …_

_Yours,_

_Bella_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

My phone vibrates and I pick it up so fast, I almost drop it. I know it's from Edward and I take a deep breath before I tap the screen to bring up the text message.

"Please be good news, please be good news," I chant and squeeze my eyes shut.

I take a deep breath and carefully, slowly, open one eye just enough to peek.

_Holy shit, I made it! Coming home 2morrow, can't wait. Miss you baby so fucking much xoxo E~_

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, she talked to Maggie. That didn't go so bad, did it? And our girl, can you tell how hard she's trying and how far she's come? I'm so proud of her. And our boy? He made it and is on his way home! Finally!**

**Pic tease will be up later, be sure to check it out.**

**I missed you all over the weekend, let me hear from you, okay?**

**Thanks for reading …**


	48. Prince Phillip

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, I own the plot.**

**Awwww, you guys loved Maggie! That put a big smile on my face, gotta tell you! And our girl, she's coming along wouldn't you say?**

**Okay, let's get to it. I understand there's a poll out there wondering if this is the week … that made me laugh. Who picked today?**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 48 - Prince Phillip -** _**Sleeping Beauty** _

"Edward, you're such a fucking idiot," I mutter as I hop over a large branch on the ground.

I have to be up in less than six hours and where am I? Besides very obviously not in my warm, comfortable bed not sleeping and risking being grounded before I even have a chance to go out with Bella.

Fuck me.

But I had to come. I couldn't not come. I just couldn't.

I curl my fingers around the notebook in my hand and breathe as I push my legs just a little faster, harder. My chest tightens, partly from exerting myself so quickly, but mostly it's because with each step I take, I get closer to her. She won't be outside; she doesn't even know I'm coming.

I laid in my bed after telling her good night and I tossed and turned for an hour before I couldn't take it anymore and now here I am, traveling the same path, in the same clothes, as I did that first night almost three months ago.

Under the same moon, under the same dark, inky sky filled with glittering stars playing hide and seek with the clouds that move silently with the gentle breeze, with the same sure footsteps over the same uneven, soggy ground, I move toward her.

Gotta admit, I never thought things would turn out like this though. Not in all my wildest dreams did I imagine that any of this would happen when I saw her the first time.

I've been back from camp for a week, and it's been the longest damn week of my entire life. Camp couldn't have gone any better for me, but by the time I was packed and waiting for my parents to pick me up so we could make the seven hour drive back to Forks from Eugene, the only thing I wanted to do was go home and see Bella. It was all I'd been able to think about. The extra week I spent in Oregon, even though I was without Emmett and Jasper, ended with the result I've been dreaming about and wanting … pushing myself for. When my name was announced as one of the twenty-two players picked for the Regional Team, it felt like this huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I took a deep breath, and accepted handshakes and slaps on the back and tried to listen to things about schedules, and training, and traveling, but my mind was already back in Forks and on Bella.

For almost three months I'd fought every instinct I had and pushed away every inclination to throw caution to the wind and say fuck it to everything and march up to her front door, ring her doorbell, and kiss the ever-living shit out of her when she opened the door. As I stood in front of the dorms that I'd made my home for the past three weeks with my duffel bag and soccer bag at my feet, all I wanted to do was be home already so I could do just that.

Things didn't exactly work out that way though.

Not even a little bit.

Because while I was on my way back to Forks, Bella was on her way to Seattle to see Phil. I wanted to be mad at her, hell I _was_ mad at her when she told me she was leaving, but it only lasted about a minute, probably less. Once I stopped being such an insensitive, whiny asshole, I realized how huge it was she was leaving her mother.

It wasn't just huge, it was Mt. Everest, Grand Canyon … Great Wall of China huge.

Gargantuan.

She's come so far, and is trying so hard, so the last thing she needed was me pouting, even though I really wanted to. From her texts and the phone call I got right before she left for Seattle, I'd gathered that Phil had wanted to spend some time with her before school started. I know it means so much to Bella that the lines of communication between the two of them are so much more open now, but I have to say, when she told me she was going to leave her mom, I asked her to repeat it … twice.

It probably shouldn't have surprised me.

She seemed to get stronger, braver every day I was gone. It was in the tone of her emails, the lightness of her text messages, and the happiness I heard in her voice when we talked on the phone. She grieved for her mom and missed her everyday and I didn't think that would ever change, but over the past almost month it was like a switch had been flipped and she was living again, trying again … finding herself again.

And I wanted her to do all those things with me, but I couldn't because she was going to be in Seattle until the weekend when Phil would come back with her so he was here for her first day of school.

I guess it turned out to be a good thing though, because as soon as I woke up Monday morning, I started going and didn't stop all week. School supply shopping, dentist appointment, haircut, pre-season soccer practice at school, a meeting with Principal Banner and the Student Council about what was expected of us on the first day of school, and a hundred other little things kept me busy all day, every day, so even if Bella had been here, we wouldn't have had any time to spend with each other anyway … and it's not like I could out of the blue say, 'hey, Mom and Dad, you know that new girl, Bella, that you told me to watch out for? Well, surprise, we already know each other' now could I?

Oh, but I heard plenty about her.

Way, way more than I wanted to, but I knew it would happen sooner or later.

During the meeting with Mr. Banner, Jessica and Angela went on and on about the new girl that was starting, wondering if she was going to be a stuck-up bitch or shy and sweet or somewhere in between. When Mom and I were in the Thriftway stopping to pick up some food for dinner I overheard Mrs. Newton in the checkout line clicking her tongue to the cashier about the poor girl with her invalid mother that had been hidden in Forks because of some scandal.

It took all I had not to tell the bitch to shut the fuck up about things she had no clue about.

All the guys on the soccer team wondered if the new girl was going to be hot and Mike and Garrett took bets on who could get her to go out with them first. That time it was Jasper that deftly moved between me and the douchebags so I didn't get benched before the season even started.

I wanted to kill them for talking about my Bella that way … of course they didn't know she was my Bella, no one did, but by the time the first bell rang tomorrow, all of Forks High damn sure would.

I didn't care if I had to find a bullhorn from somewhere and announce it to the whole fucking school, I would. I've been waiting for her for three months, I wasn't waiting one more fucking day.

So that's why, when I should be home sleeping, I'm instead running through the woods … to her, to let her know in no uncertain terms, I'm not waiting any longer.

Tomorrow … she's mine, and I'm not letting anything get in my way.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**So, if you picked today, sorry! LOL, not really, but I am sorry for leaving it here. Not much choice though, so … yeah.**

**Now, don't kill me for stopping here, because tomorrow's my birthday and that would just be mean!**

**Pic tease … later … and I'd better hear squeeing from each of you when you see it! That's all I'm saying!**

**Okay, let me have it, just remember, I'm the one that's going to push the update button tomorrow!**

' **Til then …**


	49. Princess Aurora

**Disclaimer: SM owns the characters, the plot is all mine.**

**Thank you and I love you all … there's nothing else to say because that says everything.**

**It's time ...**

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

**Chapter 49 - Princess Aurora -** _**Sleeping Beauty** _

**True Love's Kiss**

"Bella, it's almost time for you to go if you don't want to be late," Phil says softly as he pokes his head into Mom's room.

I gasp a little and look over at the clock on the nightstand beside her hospital bed. "Oh, crap!" I exclaim. "I completely lost track of the time."

He steps inside, just to the foot of Mom's bed and almost as if he can't help himself, he reaches a hand out and strokes the side of her blanket-covered foot. "I kind of thought you might have. I heard you reading and I know it was getting to the good part, so I figured I'd better interrupt before you got too much further."

He grins at me knowingly. It's been so nice having him here this weekend. In fact the past week has been great … except for that whole not being able to see Edward thing. Other than that very important fact, spending time with Phil has been good for both of us. We've gotten so much closer since he was here during All-Star break. I glance down at Mom's still face, and I know she'd be really happy about it. I'm not glad he got injured, even though it was just a sprained finger, but I guess on a MLB pitcher nothing's taken for granted. The time we've spent with each other has really helped our relationship and it's given me another extra little push I need to move forward.

Toward Edward, _with_ Edward.

The instant his name forms in my mind, my nerves explode and every inch of my body is filled with tiny sparks and I tingle all over. My chest tightens and my pulse races, and all of a sudden I just want to crawl back in my bed, pull the covers over my head, and stay there and let the world pass me by.

"Hey, you look like you got freaked out there for a second. It's okay to be nervous, Bella. It's a new school and you'll be meeting new people, but I know you'll have a great day," Phil says quietly. He extends his free hand and rubs my shoulder in support.

I _am_ nervous about starting a new school, of course I am. I'm not exactly shy, but I am quiet, observant. My school in Phoenix was so huge, probably at least twice the size of Forks High, and at least three times as many students. Here in Forks, it's going to be much harder to blend in. This summer it was kind of easy to keep to myself and I needed it, the time to get myself together and heal, but I know once I step foot on that campus, things are going to change. It's not as if I won't stand out like a sore thumb; most of the kids I'll be going to school with have been around one another their whole lives. As the new girl, I know that everyone will be curious. As hard as I try not to, I'm so worried about no one liking me. Obviously I'm not worried about Edward; not Emmett, Jasper, Rose, and Alice either. They all seem so nice and from what Edward keeps telling me, really excited to meet me.

It will be nice to have friends, again. I had a small group of friends that I hung out with, but when Mom got hurt and I'd withdrawn so completely, it was as if I'd just faded away. I guess in a way I had. I know I certainly didn't make much effort to talk to anyone, and I basically just went through the motions for the most part.

Once I get to school today, there's no more hiding.

I don't want to any longer anyway and, well, I'm pretty sure Edward won't let me.

And again, cue the swarm of butterflies trying to beat their way out of my stomach as soon as I think his name.

I don't think I'm going to make it past the first class without throwing up.

I close the book and stand up, leaning over to kiss the side of Mom's head before I turn to Phil. "I'm going to go get my stuff, then I'll come find you to say goodbye, okay?"

He nods, but doesn't look up. He's staring at Mom and I figure he needs a few minutes of alone time to say his own goodbye to her.

It's hard walking out of her room and toward mine. So, so hard. The urge to throw myself next to her bed and not leave her is so strong. With each step the guilt and the grief and the sense of despair threatens to overwhelm me. My chest tightens and my stomach rolls even more than before and my legs feel like they could give out at any moment.

Once inside the comfort of my own room, I close the door behind me and lean against it, letting it support me while I try to catch my breath. "God, when will this not hurt so much?" I whisper as I bend over, clutching my stomach.

The worst part? I know Mom would absolutely abhor me acting this way. She was strong, seemingly fearless even when I knew she really wasn't, and so brave. After Dad died, she could have crumpled beneath the weight of her pain, but instead she moved forward. She _tried_ … she _did_.

Just like I want to do.

After one more deep breath I look up. The first thing my eyes find is Edward's pen on top of the notebook beside my bed. The smile that spreads across my face works to tamp down my out of control emotions and focuses them on where they're supposed to be … where they're meant to be.

On Edward … always, always on Edward.

Because of him, I know I can get through today. And the day after that, and the next one, and the next one.

"Okay, Bella, enough freaking out for one day. You have an important date." I roll my eyes at my ridiculous pep talk, but it does the trick.

I walk to my bathroom and look at myself in the mirror, wondering if I should take my hair out of my ponytail. I know Edward likes it up, but even I have to admit I'm having a pretty damn good hair day, so down it is.

I stare at my reflection and after a silent but blunt appraisal, I give myself a quick nod and turn back toward my room. Backpack, schedule, a few notebooks, and of course my silly pen and then I'm ready to go. Keys and cell phone in hand, I meet Phil in the kitchen.

"You look like you're ready to go," Phil says as he leans against the island.

"As much as I'll ever be," I tell him, but I can't help but grin a little.

As nervous as I am, I'm really excited, too.

He sets his coffee mug down beside him and then walks toward me. "Depending on how the rest of the season goes and then playoffs, it might be awhile before I can come back here. You'll let me know if you need anything?" he asks.

"Of course, but I'll be fine."

He tilts his head to the side and a soft, genuine smile appears. "I know you will, Bella. I'm so proud of you," he says slowly. "Being here has been good for you. I wasn't sure, especially with ..." He looks off in the direction of Mom's room. "I know you feel sometimes like you're all alone, but you're not, okay? Even if I'm on the road, if you need me, I'll be here."

I nod, feeling too many things to get my mouth to work.

"Besides, someone has a birthday next month. Let's see if we can work out something to spend it together?" he questions.

"I'd like that."

"Okay, I'm hitting the road as soon as I shower, so I'll be gone when you get done at school. Text me later and let me know how your day was and we'll talk this weekend. I'll be in Chicago, but Saturday's an early game so I'll call you afterward."

"Good luck," I tell him and smile because Phil really hates the White Sox.

He pulls me in for a hug and kisses my cheek then the top of my head. "I love you, sweetheart. Have a good week and don't forget to send me a text later, just to let me know your day was okay."

"I love you, too, and I won't. Be safe going back to Seattle." I hug him, hard, one more time and then hurry out the door.

Walking to my car I'm in my own little world. Of course I'm thinking about Edward which seems to be an all the time thing these days, when I see my notebook beneath the windshield wiper. He was here … last night. Wow. Slowly I walk around the car and pull it from beneath the wiper blade, not wasting any time opening it. I flip through the pages, and realize with a start how much I miss his letters. Emails and texts are great, listening to him talk is even better, but I miss seeing his handwriting, miss feeling his words. I skim the letter he left because I'm too impatient to read it slowly, then once I've devoured each word, I start over again, savoring this time.

I sigh. I needed that, so much, and I didn't even know it. He did though, because well, he's Edward.

He's so wonderful.

Once my backpack is in the passenger seat beside me, I take a deep breath, and put the key in the ignition.

It's time.

No more waiting. No more hiding. No more excuses.

I'm going to see Edward.

Soon.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

"You can do this, Bella," I mutter as someone jostles my backpack when they walk through the open door.

I step to the side and take a deep breath. Jesus, this shouldn't be such a big deal. Of course Edward is in there, somewhere.

That makes this about the biggest deal ever.

One more deep breath and I walk inside. A quick look around and it's a lot like my old school in Phoenix. The Spartan emblem embedded into the floor, flyers cover a huge bulletin board announcing sign-ups for one club or another, white butcher paper posters with 'Welcome Spartans' line the walls. Two huge glass cases filled with trophies are in the center of the far wall.

There are people everywhere. Laughing, talking, looking at schedules together. Everyone's so familiar with one another and for the briefest of moments, just a flash, I want to turn around and go home. But I can't, I won't. Not when Edward's so close.

People point as I walk by them. I can feel numerous sets of eyes on me, but not the ones I want. There's no warmth, no tingles, so I know he's not close by, not yet. I move a few steps farther inside, sweeping my eyes from left to right. They flit from person to person, then stop on a small group to my left. A huge guy with short dark hair and arms as big as cannons stands beside the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen. He leans down to say something in her ear and she smiles, making her look even more beautiful, if that's even possible. The whole group laughs when she says something back to him, and his megawatt smile shows off dimples I can see even from this far away. It's obvious how close they all are.

I wonder if they're friends with Edward. I think they must be.

The other people in the group, a girl with long, straight black hair and glasses, stands next to a guy that looks like an All-American boy next door - short blond hair, Polo shirt, and jeans, a nice smile that shows off his perfect teeth. The two are holding hands, though they don't cling to each other as they all talk amongst themselves. The other two, a really tall, somewhat skinny guy with dirty-blond hair has his arm wrapped tightly around a petite girl with short, dark hair. They are obviously boyfriend and girlfriend. Every time she moves, he does, even when they are talking to the others in the group.

If these are Edward's friends, and I'm betting they're Emmett, Rosalie, Alice and Jasper … it's no wonder he came looking for me. They all look so happy with each other; I can only imagine how it would feel to be the odd-man out.

I turn away before they catch me looking at them. Talk about embarrassing. I swing my backpack around so I can unzip the front pocket and take out my schedule. I fumble with the paper while I try to get the pocket zipped back up so nothing spills out. When I finally do, I glance around and then I feel it.

Tingles.

Sparks.

Warmth.

Edward.

Right there. Right in front of me.

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

Oh my.

Edward is definitely hotter than his dad.

**EPOV**

"Edward, if you don't get a move on, you're going to be late," Mom hollers up the stairs at me.

I make some sort of sound at my reflection in the mirror and ignore her. It's not like I don't know what time it is anyway.

Believe me I know.

I've been watching every single second pass by since I woke up … before my alarm this morning.

After making it back home from dropping off the notebook and inside without detection, I collapsed in my bed, and was asleep within seconds. In the next one, I bolted straight up in bed, covered with sweat, my heart beating a hundred miles a minute, and the biggest fucking smile on my face. I'm pretty sure if my mom would've walked in my door just then, I would have freaked her the hell out because she would have thought I'd lost my damn mind.

Honestly, who could blame me because today's the day.

THE day.

Bella day.

I stare at myself again and then whip off my shirt, hating the way it looks on me. I mutter all the way to my closet and try to figure out when in the hell I turned into such a God damn girl, but holy shit.

It's fucking Bella Day.

For a second my mind wanders and I wonder how hard it is to add a holiday to the calendar, because if any day deserved to be celebrated, it's today. I pick out a different shirt, one Mom picked up in Seattle on the way home from Alaska. It's some blue and white plaid short-sleeved, button-up shirt and I suppose with my white t-shirt on underneath it doesn't look half bad. Cargo shorts and my favorite pair of Nikes and I guess it's as good as it's gonna get.

I want to look good for Bella, but I don't want it to seem like I'm trying too hard because that's just pathetic.

I freeze when I walk back out of my bathroom.

In a little over an hour I'm going to be able to see her, touch her … and fuck me, kiss her.

I lick my lips. Smooth, a little chapped, but not too bad. I hold a hand up and blow then sniff. Minty, but I make a mental note to grab a pack of gum on my way out the door. I look down and run my hand over the front of my shirt, no wrinkles thank goodness. I take a step then stop, reach between my legs and adjust … much better.

I grab my backpack and sling it on my shoulder. Keys, wallet, and cell phone go into the pocket of my shorts and then I pick up my soccer bag. I'm not going to feel like practicing today, I'm already tired and the day hasn't even started yet, but Coach didn't ask me if it was a good idea. I take a step then pat my pocket and pull out my cell phone.

No missed call.

No email.

No text.

_Son of a bitch._

I tighten my jaw and close my fingers around my phone and try not to freak the fuck out. I didn't really think she'd call this morning, but I did think she'd send a text or something at least. Deep breath, in then out. It's early. Phil's still there.

Maybe her battery's dead.

Maybe this is too much for her.

Maybe she's not coming.

Maybe she's decided that she doesn't want this … want me.

No.

No, no, no! No fucking way.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I play back our conversation from last night and remember how her voice sounded. Excited, a little scared, and so fucking happy I could almost see rays of light shining through the phone.

"Calm down, idiot," I chastise myself.

I know today's going to be hard for her. I know leaving her mom for the day is going to probably feel like cutting off her own arm, but I also know Bella's going to do it. She went to Seattle for a week, so she can do this. I know my girl and she's so strong, so fucking strong, and she's come way too far to stop now.

I know it.

Less than fifty minutes now.

I make my way downstairs and grab a glass of orange juice and sit down to eat breakfast with Mom and Dad. We talk about our plans for the day, and it's amazing to me how quick and easy it is to get back onto a schedule. Dad's work, my practices, Mom's volunteer work, dinner - normal everyday things that before Bella I would have just taken for granted, but now, mean so much more.

After scarfing down my food, I run upstairs and brush my teeth again - can't be kissing my girl with bacon breath - and then tell my parents goodbye.

"Don't forget to look out for the new girl, dear," Mom tells me as I walk through the front door.

The twisty turny thing comes out to play and I hurry to the car, more anxious than I've ever been to get to school, which makes the actual ten minute drive feel like at least an hour … probably longer. I spend the entire trip glancing at my phone in the passenger seat, flipping through the radio stations, then turning it off just in case I can't hear my phone vibrate with a message.

I pull into the nearly empty parking lot and find the spot I always park - the far left corner - but facing the soccer fields, so that when I'm done with practice I don't have to go too far. I grab my stuff and get out, running to the locker room to drop off my soccer bag. By the time I walk back outside, I wait for Alice who has just pulled in.

"Hey, Ali."

"Well, look at you. Don't you look nice today? Trying to impress a certain mysterious drummer girl that you've been obsessing over for months?" she teases as she bumps my hip.

I don't say anything. I can't. My throat's completely dry and the lump inside of it is the size of a soccer ball.

Thirty minutes to go.

Holy shit.

"Bella's going to be fine, Edward." She says it quietly, but without a hint of doubt. "I can't wait to meet her!" She grins at me and bounces a little in her Alice way and I just smile, because I know they're going to be great friends.

"You guys need to take it easy, okay? She's going to be really nervous," I warn her.

Alice rolls her eyes and opens the heavy glass door leading into the school. Angela and Ben are already waiting for us, as is Mr. Banner.

"Chill, Edward. It's not like we're all going to tackle the poor girl."

I can't reply because by this time we're standing with the others. As the four members of the Student Council … Angela, President, me, Vice-President, Ben, Treasurer, and Alice as the Secretary, we have to welcome the students and help the younger ones, the incoming Freshman mostly, find their homeroom assignments and make sure to answer any questions they have like where the cafeteria is or how to find the office.

Forks High isn't huge, but I remember when I first started here and saw all the older students walking the hallways. It can be a little intimidating.

Mr. Banner gives us our instructions and we stand around and talk until the first throng of students starts to arrive about 7:45. School begins at 8:15 and we had to be here by 7:30, way too damn early for the first day of my senior year of high school, but it's not like I could say no.

Five minutes pass and suddenly the hall is full of people. Parents and students and teachers everywhere, and the noise level goes up and up. I'm pointing and talking and feel a bump into my elbow and I whip my head around.

Emmett.

"Dude, why the hell is it always like this on the first day of school?" he asks, shaking his head.

Rose is chatting with Alice and Angela and I give Jasper the manly, cool, chin lift because as usual, he's got his arm wrapped firmly around Alice and he's not in a hurry to let her go.

"It's insane, but so far so good," I tell him, having seen only a few students who looked like they wanted to make a break for it.

"Any sightings of you know who?"

I scan the crowded hallway looking for long brown hair, but there's too many people to even tell. Besides, I don't feel her, and I know I would if she were close by.

"Nah, not yet, but there's still twenty minutes before the bell rings. I hope she's okay," I trail off. I grab my phone again and check, just in case.

Nothing.

He slaps me on the back. "Okay, man, I'll see you in Econ."

I glance at my watch.

Any minute now.

It has to be.

"Ah, Mr. Cullen, things seem to going smoothly. No issues so far?" Mr. Banner asks a few minutes later.

"Um …"

And the words die because she's here.

I can feel her.

Right here, right now.

She's fucking here.

Frantic, I scan the crowd. Mr. Banner's talking to me, but I have no idea what the hell he's saying. He could be telling me Mike Newton came to school naked for all I care. From left to right my eyes sweep, but I still can't see her. My heart's racing and the deodorant I put on this morning after my shower is getting a workout, so I know she's close. The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end and the twisty turny thing is wound tighter than a damn corkscrew.

Mr. Banner leans to the side to talk to a teacher passing by and then …

Holy shit.

Brown hair, brown eyes, gorgeous face, and a smile … _my smile_.

Bella.

**BPOV**

Green eyes.

He has green eyes.

He never told me his eyes were green and even if he did, there's no way I would have ever, _ever_ , been able to do them justice in my imagination.

They're the most incredible eyes I've ever seen in my life.

They widen and I'm gone, lost in the pools of glass bottle green. I'm so gone, fallen so deep, that I don't ever want to come out.

Edward.

Oh my God.

I know my mouth's hanging open, and there's a buzzing in my ears, but I can't be bothered to look and see where it's coming from. Besides, nothing else matters because he's less than ten feet away from me.

The tingles and sparks, the exploding fireworks and the crackling electricity from a month ago is nothing compared to what I feel right this second. Everything around me is moving a mile a minute. There are voices, footsteps, the creak of lockers opening and the clanging when they close.

A bump of my shoulder, a murmur of an apology, but nothing can tear my eyes away from him.

He's beautiful.

He's perfect.

He's so, so mine.

His hair's as crazy as he said it was, and my fingers twitch. I want to touch it just to see if it's as soft as it looks. He's tall, a lot taller than I thought he'd be. His nose is slightly crooked, though not surprising I suppose since he's played soccer for so long. Wide shoulders, legs that, oh hell, if they look that good in baggy cargo shorts, I can't even imagine how good they look in soccer shorts.

His smile though, his smile causes my heart to pound, my pulse to race, and liquid fire to spread through every part of my body. Perfect lips curve in the most perfect way. A lopsided smile where the left side of his mouth lifts a tiny bit higher than the right.

And he's smiling, at me, like he's been lost for days … months … years even and he's finally found his way back to where he belongs.

I can feel my eyes burn as they fill with tears.

How … how is it possible to feel so much at one time? Like crying and laughing and screaming and singing and crying some more. I gulp, trying to breathe, but I can't.

His eyes widen again and I can tell he wants to walk forward, but I shake my head. Time, oh God, I just need a minute, a second, to get control of myself. A deep breath, and hold, then I let it out slowly. Once, then twice, and I can feel the surge of emotion settle back down to a manageable level.

I can't move. My feet are stuck to the floor. I want to go forward, but my legs won't allow me to. A flood of memories in my head.

_Holding my dad's hand while at the same time holding an ice cream cone in the other. Sitting in the kitchen with my mom after school eating sugar cookies and drinking milk. Sitting on my dad's shoulders while I put the star on top of the Christmas tree and smiling down at my mom who clapped like I'd just painted a masterpiece._

_A casket covered with an American flag. Hundreds of men and women dressed in uniform, a sea of dark blue and shiny gold._

_Hospitals and doctors with stoic faces and nurses dressed in scrubs covered with too bright flowers. Tubes and machines that make whooshing noises._

_Standing in a driveway watching a car as it gets farther and farther away._

Then there are new memories.

_Drumsticks and a notebook._

_Tentative steps forward, the beginning of a friendship._

_A song. A smile._

_A silly pen._

_Trust._

_The baring of a soul._

_Comfort._

_Need._

_Cookies._

_Excitement and want._

_The sound of a voice. Electricity._

_More cookies. A CD. Finger touches, hand holding, never wanting to let go._

_Words and thoughts and feelings. Open, honest, true._

Edward.

A step forward, then another.

**EPOV**

"Yes, baby. Yes, yes," I murmur, urging her with all I have to keep walking forward.

To me.

God, she's gorgeous.

My body screams at me, every inch begging to just move, to take a few steps closer to her. It's where I'm supposed to be, where I need to be, but I don't move. This has to be her choice. To try, to take a chance, to believe … to begin living for herself again.

Not just because of me.

But for herself.

I can see the guilt in her eyes, see the fear of going forward without her dad, and without her mom.

"Trust me, Bella," I whisper.

Her breath catches in her throat, almost as if she's heard me, but over the commotion all around us, I know that's impossible. She can feel me though, that I know for fucking sure. The way her eyes are dilated, the way her fingers curl and uncurl, the way she keeps biting her bottom lip … oh yeah she can feel me.

"Almost, baby. Come on."

Christ, I just want her here already. I want my arms around her, her chest pressed against mine. I want her hands on me. I want my fingers in her hair. I want my mouth on hers, and I want to know once and for fucking all if she tastes as good as she smells.

She's moving, a step. Another. One more, this time surer. And another, this one with a brilliant smile on her face. So close, so, so close.

Until she's here.

Oh my fucking God.

Neither of us say anything; we just stare at each other. My friends are around somewhere, but all I can see is Bella. _My Bella_.

Without saying a word, I reach for her hand and slide my fingers between hers. She sighs and I know I do the same. To be able to touch her while looking into her beautiful brown eyes is almost more than I can take. She closes her eyes and I see a tear slip out of the corner of one. With my free hand I ghost the tip of my finger beneath her eye and gather the moisture there.

Warmth. It's everywhere, burning where I touch her skin.

She gasps or squeaks … I don't even know, but it's adorable as hell.

When she opens her eyes, they're shining, but not from tears of sadness but pure unadulterated joy if the smile on her face means anything. I feel my mouth lift, and I know I'm smiling, too.

I mean … she's fucking here!

I take a step back, hating it, but there's something I need to do first.

I twist our hands so that our palms touch and my hand is wrapped around hers in a handshake.

"Hi, my name's Edward Cullen. I'm the senior class Vice-President. If there's anything I can help you with, please let me know. And you are?"

She laughs, and I die a little inside.

She has the best damn laugh and it turns her cheeks pink, and makes the end of her nose wrinkle in the cutest way.

"Bella Swan, it's nice to meet you, Edward. I've heard a lot about you." She grins.

I pull her closer because, well, she's here, and I can, and I don't think I'll ever let her go again. I lean forward and brush my nose against hers. "Yeah? And just who did you hear these things about me from?"

I grip her hip with my free hand and angle her just where I want her. We're so close, I can feel her heart beat against my chest. Sugar cookies and peppermint are all around me, and her lips, oh fuck, they're so close.

Her voice drops to a rough whisper. I can see her pulse pound in her neck. "Oh, from some creepy guy, goes by the number eighteen, can you believe that? I mean, who does that?" She giggles.

That does it.

"Bella?"

She leans back, just enough to look into my eyes. I don't know what she sees exactly, but whatever it is causes a soft whimper to escape.

"It's soon," I murmur.

And then there are no words. Only lips against lips and tongues and wet and hot and teeth. Fingers through hair, and holds on hips. Moans and whimpers and warmth, and hard and soft. I kiss her like there's no tomorrow. I kiss her like I've dreamed about for three months. I kiss her like I want her like I've never, ever wanted anything before.

I kiss her like I love her.

The bell sounds and we break apart, each breathing heavily, each not caring that by lunchtime there won't be any other topic of conversation but us.

I reach for her again and cradle her head in my hands. I lean forward and brush my lips against hers, soft and featherlight, because they're my lips and I can kiss them anytime I want now.

Fuck yes.

"I'm so ridiculously in love with you, Bella Swan," I tell her because I can't wait one more second for her to know that she owns me completely, body, mind, heart, and soul.

She squeaks again and throws herself into my arms.

"I love you, too," she whispers and I swear, I fucking swear, I hear angels singing or some shit … maybe I've just died and gone to heaven. I don't know. All I know, all that matters, is Bella's here, with me, and I don't ever have to let her go.

**~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~**

****Message from Laurel that Erin doesn't know about ...**

Hello, all! Today is Erin's birthday! We have set up a FB page for her ... come wish her a happy birthday!

www . facebook groups / 145915338871781 /

**My hands shook the entire time I was writing this, no lie. I hope it was worth the wait and I hope it was everything you wanted it to be.**

**This ending is exactly what I've always wanted. I've dreamed of this story for over two years. I've written scenes, this one in particular, in my head, over and over again, so thank you for letting me share this story with you. It's truly like leaving you a piece of my heart as corny as that sounds.**

**Now, in case you were wondering … I WAS going to end this here. I have an Epilogue that is done, but I'm not ready to say goodbye just yet and there are still a lot of things left to cover. So … that means a sequel/companion piece is on the way. I'm not sure how long it will be, but if you have anything in particular you want to see, let me know. There won't be daily postings, probably not daily pic teases, though you all know me, there will be some along the way. I'll start on Memorial Day. I'd love to jump right in, but honestly, Laurel and I are tired! We need a tiny break. So … I'll see you in a week and half and we'll see what comes next for our Creeper and his Drummer Girl. Check the FB page for updates and such, we'll keep you informed, promise! Look for _Drumsticks and Penalty Kicks_ for the continuation!**

**Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for allowing me to share this story with you. I love each of you, so so much!**

**See you soon,**

**Erin~**


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